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Ever since I came to stay with the person I used to call "Evil Morty" in my head until recently, my sense of time had been growing blurrier and blurrier.
That made sense, though. The place we lived in now was a vast spacecraft, so far from Earth I had no idea how many light-years away we were. The sun didn't rise from the east like it used to, nor did it set in the west. Across the sprawling interior, the only things indicating time were the system clocks blinking an inorganic blue along the edge of the walls, but eventually, I stopped even noticing them.
When the holographic sky was turned off, the light from distant shining stars and a massive, glowing sun filtered softly through the biodome, filling the space with a faint, pale blue hue. The view outside the window was breathtakingly beautiful, yet there was no morning, no night—only a deep, eternal silence.
The twinkling of the stars subtly shifted colors every second—cool blues, clear whites, and occasionally an eerie, reddish tinge—floating in the dark cosmic ocean like scattered gems. In that overwhelming quiet, there were moments I felt so detached that I wondered if I was even truly alive.
Inhaling deeply, I'd feel my chest rise and fall just to reassure myself. Still, watching that pale blue light dust the corners of the room like fine powder somehow lulled my turbulent heart into a tranquil calm.
Yet, surprisingly, I never felt bored living on this ship.
There was none of Rick’s sudden, rough handling—grabbing me by the scruff of my neck with booze on his breath, dragging me off to some dangerous, unknown planet before I could even catch my breath.
No annoying school bells, no tedious assignments with looming deadlines. None of those rigid, pre-determined routines existed here. Back then, every single day was driven by someone else's agenda, getting hurt, being dragged along, doing whatever it took just to survive until tomorrow. That constant, edge-of-your-seat tension felt like a story from a distant past now. All that was left here was time without a name, flowing gently and effortlessly without a sound.
"Hey, wanna play if you're bored?"
Whenever I stretched out on the large sofa out of sheer boredom, he'd toss a controller toward me with a flick of his wrist, without even looking my way.
Whether I felt like playing a game or stepping out for a breath of air, he always called out to me at just the right moment, long before I could even put my feelings into words. I'd fumble to catch the controller mid-air, only to find him already waiting quietly on the screen for me to get ready.
His back was always straight and flawless. Though he had the exact same build as me, he looked like a completely different person who had been thoroughly trained for years.
Sometimes, he'd casually tutor me.
I'd spread my notebooks on the inorganic desk, clutching my head over unsolvable problems, until I heard his quiet footsteps approaching.
"Look, there again. I told you, you've got the order of operations wrong."
"…But this formula is so confusing."
"Stop complaining. Even someone like you can solve it if you just stay calm and follow the steps."
As I frowned over my notebook, my pen frozen in place, he'd let out a soft sigh of exasperation and slide into the seat right beside me. Then, overlapping his slender fingers over mine, he'd adjust my grip on the pen.
Drifting from right beside me was his distinct scent—a mix of cold metallic undertones and fresh, clean citrus. Catching my breath, I'd glance sideways to see the exact same eyebrow shape, the same line of the nose, the same jawline as mine. Yet, embedded in his features was an overwhelming confidence and quiet intellect that I, back when I was just Rick's Morty, never possessed. Under his guidance, the equations on the notebook—viewed by the exact same face—seemed to unravel almost like magic.
Other times, we'd stay up all night lost in competitive video games.
With the room lights dimmed, the vivid glow of the LCD screen illuminated our faces in the dark. Sitting close enough for our shoulders to brush, we'd silently mash buttons with intense focus.
"Hey, that's cheating! You totally dodged that guard!"
"I didn't dodge it; your command input was just slow. …Look, I win again."
"One more time! I'm definitely winning the next one!"
"Sure, sure. I'll play until you're satisfied."
Before I knew it, he was beside me; before I knew it, we were sharing the same room, eating up the exact same time.
The horrific flash of green light when Rick’s portal gun tore through space, the deafening blasts of alien gunfights—none of that was here. In their place was a gentle silence so profound I could hear my own breathing, and an overabundance of care and preparation by another version of myself who seemed to know everything I wanted in advance.
It felt like being submerged deep in lukewarm water that never changed temperature—so comfortable, so gentle, so infinitely warm.
Living such a peaceful life, I seemed to have completely erased the concept of dates—and the passage of time itself—from my head.
That day, the dinner lined up on the living room table was packed with more of my favorite foods than ever before.
The perfectly seared steak gave off a fragrant aroma of meat juices and herbs, with silky-smooth mashed potatoes elegantly plated beside it. From the soup bowl next to it, steam from rich tomato and basil billowed up softly, gently whetting my appetite.
And what surprised me most was the salad. It was the exact Caesar salad from that dim alleyway joint we’d visited in Dimension D-95, the one I had fallen in love with and devoured. Crunchy, toasted croutons, thick-cut bacon blocks, a generous shaving of fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano, and that distinctively rich dressing—it was reproduced down to the exact look and scent without a single detail out of place.
Right in the center of the table, a vibrant, light-purple flower—unlike anything found on Earth—was set in a glass vase, bringing warmth and color to the cold, inorganic dining room of the ship.
Sitting across from me, the other me uncorked a familiar green bottle with his usual calm, composed face. Martinelli's Apple Sparkling Cider—the one Mom used to prepare for celebrations.
With a light pop, the cork came off, and clear, golden cider filled the delicate champagne glasses. I stared with a sense of surreal bliss as fine, sparkling bubbles rose with a soft, lovely fizz.
"…Hey, did something happen?"
Unable to hold back, I asked.
"Hmm?" Morty, wiping water droplets off the bottle with a white cloth, looked back at me with a bewildered expression. His bare, un-eyepatched eye showed a strange depth under the light.
"Why is dinner so fancy today? Did something good happen?"
"Oh, this?" He set the bottle down gently on the table and tilted his head slightly. "…Do you really not know?"
"Huh…? Did I forget something…?"
I frantically searched my memory. But living on this ship, we didn't even flip calendar pages. In a place where both past and future felt hazy, I couldn't think of any anniversary worth remembering.
"…Is it the anniversary of when you destroyed the Citadel?"
When I blurted out the biggest event I could think of, Morty froze for a second, then burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.
"Ahaha! Not even close. …You're as careless as ever, aren't you?"
Amused, Morty narrowed his eyes and reached his slender fingers toward his glass.
"Today is your birthday."
"…Today? That much time has passed already?"
Shocked by the completely unexpected answer, my mouth hung open in disbelief. To think another year had passed without me even knowing how much time had elapsed on Earth.
"Yeah. Happy birthday, Morty."
He said it casually, as if announcing tomorrow's weather, and softly clinked his glass against mine.
Clink. The high, clear sound of glass ringing echoed quietly through the room.
This space, severed from the universe, was always quiet. The pale blue light of the sun filtered through the thick glass of the biodome, casting faint, cold shadows over the table. Outside the window, the vast darkness stretched out, distant stars flickering softly. I recalled him quietly telling me once in this very room that the light we were seeing was from about a light-year ago.
I set my glass down and looked over the table once more.
The steak was cooked to medium-rare—just the way I had casually mentioned I liked it before. The salad dressing tasted identical to the one from that shop. How in the world did he gather these ingredients and recreate this taste on a spacecraft so far removed from everything? Knowing Morty, he might have traveled across dimensions to source them, or synthesized them down to the molecular level using the ship's advanced systems. Either way, thinking about the time and effort he put into preparing all this made the inside of my chest tickle softly.
"I didn't think you'd do something like this for me."
The voice that leaked out of my mouth trembled slightly, even to my own ears.
The solitary man who destroyed the Citadel and broke free from that crazy Central Finite Curve. Cold, rational, and never showing a shred of emotion to others—yet he had prepared such a warm dinner just for me.
"You weren't happy?"
Hearing my words, Morty slowly set his fork on the edge of the plate and narrowed his bare eye slightly as he looked at me. Behind that quiet question, I felt a trace of anxiety, or perhaps a delicate shade of probing for my reaction.
"No! Of course I'm happy! It's not that, I'm just… really, really happy. Thank you."
When I frantically waved my hands to deny it, he let out a quiet, satisfied laugh from the back of his throat.
"You're overreacting to just some food. Besides, I prepared something you'll like even more."
"Eh? There's more?"
"It's your birthday. Of course there's a present."
With that, he reached under the table and unexpectedly handed me a box, neatly wrapped in vibrant yellow paper without a single crease. The moment it was passed to me, a satisfying, heavy weight transferred to my hands. A square, large box tied with a classy satin ribbon.
"Are you… really giving this to me…?"
"Open it already. I'm sure you'll like it."
Prompted by Morty, my heart pounding, I carefully untied the ribbon. Even the crisp sound of the wrapping paper rustling felt like a special blessing in this quiet space.
I gently peeled off the paper and lifted the lid of the heavy shoe box inside.
The moment I pulled back the tissue paper inside, my eyes went as wide as they could possibly go.
"This is…!!"
Inside was a pair of sneakers I had wanted for the longest time.
A recent, limited-edition model from a popular street brand.
Back when I was still on Earth, watching TV with my family on the living room sofa, I saw it in a commercial. Phrases like "Worldwide limited quantity, the ultimate pair" floated across the screen, and I was glued to it, thinking, 'Woah, that's so cool.' But I had no money, and I knew if I begged Rick, he'd just brush me off saying, "I don't have time for worthless Earth garbage." So I gave up immediately and pushed it to the back of my mind.
"I never even said I wanted these! How did you know?"
Without thinking, I raised my voice. Sitting across from me, Morty rested a finger against his chin and raised one corner of his mouth triumphantly.
"Well, I know what I really want."
"What's that supposed to mean? Pfft, haha, oh man, I'm so happy. I never thought I'd get something like this."
"I just thought they'd look good on you. …It's no big deal."
"It IS a big deal!!! Thank you, I'm so happy. Seriously… I don't even know what to say."
"Ahaha, okay, I get it. Don't exaggerate."
I took the new sneakers out of the box, cradling them in both hands, bringing them to eye level to gaze at them intently.
Supple, high-quality white leather. Delicate, beautiful thin lines along the sides. A design so flawless it made me sigh, exactly as shown in the commercial. It was an item that caused a frenzy of lottery sales worldwide—something a normal person couldn't buy even if they stood on their head. How did he get his hands on it? Did he travel through dimensions using a portal, or synthesize it at the molecular level? I had a million questions. But all those doubts vanished in an instant. Right now, the pure joy filling my chest won over everything.
I carefully traced the leather on the top with my fingertips.
A smooth texture that clung to my skin and a firm stiffness that showed they had never been worn.
"I'm really happy… Thank you, Morty."
"…I get it already. Eat your food before it gets cold."
When I turned to him with a beaming smile, Morty had turned away, returning to his usual detached expression.
However, no matter how composed he tried to act, the tips of his small, white ears were flushed a faint shade of crimson—and I wasn't dense enough to miss it. Seeing him get shy after picking out a gift just for me made the inside of my chest fill with a gentle, warm heat.
I ran my fingertips carefully over the white leather resting on my lap once more.
Leaning in slightly and taking a deep breath, the unique, rich scent of leather filled my nose—like a newly built house or opening a brand-new notebook.
Something I had wanted for so long, but had given up on, thinking I'd never have a chance with it.
Now, it was right here in my hands. In the quiet blue light of this spacecraft, as a special treasure given just for me.
In the middle of the pure joy washing over me, I suddenly felt a small, prickling doubt in the back of my mind.
The person sitting in front of me and I were both Morty.
The moment that simple, decisive thought caught up with my brain, the feverish excitement rushing through my body cooled all at once, replaced by a surge of overwhelming guilt.
We had the same face, the same voice, and the same birthday. If today was my birthday, then naturally, today had to be a special birthday for the Morty sitting right in front of me, too.
"…Hey, I really can't accept this."
I put the sneakers back into the box and gently pushed it back across the table.
"Today is your birthday, too, right? But I haven't prepared anything for you… It's wrong for only me to get something like this."
Morty stopped his hand just as he was about to pierce a piece of sliced meat with his fork, slowly raising his gaze. His bare, un-eyepatched eye widened in surprise, blinking a few times.
"…Well, logically speaking, I suppose so."
"What do you mean logically…? We're the same, so we have the same birthday, right? Or am I wrong?"
"No, you're right. Our birthday is the same."
"Then I definitely can't take this! I haven't given you anything right now… You should've told me earlier! I could've gone out to buy something or prepared something…!"
My flustered voice echoed lonely through the quiet dining room.
After a brief silence, Morty shrugged slightly, looking somewhat amused, and tilted the delicate stem of his champagne glass with his slender fingertips. Through the thick glass, catching the sun's light, the bright golden color of the cider shone unusually clear, casting a mysterious glow on his skin.
"I… don't really care about birthdays."
"Even if you say that, it only happens once a year! You… might be able to grant everything yourself… and there's not much I can do, but… isn't there at least one thing, just one thing you want?"
"Something I want, huh……"
Morty's short sigh melted quietly into the sweet air around the nameless alien flowers sitting extravagantly in the middle of the table.
The silver knife, reflecting the pale, moonlight-like blue light of the sun, flickered dazzingly at the edge of my vision. From the medium-rare steak neatly sliced on the plate, meat juices slowly oozed out, the rich aroma of gravy sauce and butter intensely stimulating my appetite. Scooping a bite with my fork along with the smooth mashed potatoes and bringing it to my mouth, a luxurious flavor spread across my tongue—tasting better than anything I'd ever had in my life.
A Morty who could make such delicious food and get anything across dimensions.
Looking at the version of myself in front of me, he held the rim of the glass to his lips, swirling it finely while staring straight at me. He looked like he was still thinking, or maybe he was just enjoying watching me panic.
Feeling awkward staying silent, just as I took a breath to say something, the other me shrugged and laughed merrily.
"Like I said… I already have everything."
He slowly tilted his glass and neatly drank the remaining golden liquid. His thin throat moved silently. Setting the glass back on the table, he let out a soft chuckle.
He truly looked like someone who had everything he could ever desire, holding no lingering regrets or wants from the world.
Because we were the same, I knew he wasn't lying. And because I knew, I couldn't find any words to say back.
A heavy silence fell over the dining table once again.
Outside the glass of the biodome, somewhere in the infinite darkness, a faint discord echoed softly as meteoroid fragments collided and drifted apart.
A moment later, Morty unexpectedly looked up.
From between his bangs, his bare, clear eye caught mine directly. In that eye, the pale blue light filtering through the biodome shimmered like tiny flecks of stardust.
"Next year. Next year, promise me you'll prepare a present for me."
I widened my eyes at the sudden words dropped into the quiet room.
"…Eh, that's it?"
"That's what I want. It's a promise. You think about what would be good for me, and you pick something out. Next year, on this day, without fail."
"…Is something like that really okay?"
"Something like that is what I want."
Morty's voice trembled ever so slightly at the very end. It lacked the cold irony he usually wore like armor, as well as his annoying, mature detachment. What was there was a naked, surprisingly defenseless statement—more honest than anything I had ever seen from him.
We're the same, so I know, he had said time and time again.
I felt like I finally understood what that meant for the first time today.
"I'll definitely keep that as a promise for next year, but…"
"Seriously. It's a promise."
"Still, I can't accept this without giving you anything for this year."
"I told you I don't need anything."
"Then I'm not accepting this."
Feeling the heavy weight of the box in my fingertips, I gently pushed the yellow box containing the new sneakers back toward him across the table.
The white leather peeking from inside the box gleamed softly under the overhead light. It was something I had wanted for so long. The best gift I could ever hope for. But enjoying happiness all by myself without returning a single thing to Morty just felt wrong.
"…You stubborn idiot."
"Look who's talking."
The cool, pale blue light passing through the biodome cast deep shadows across his sharp nose and pale cheeks. Far off in the dark, a meteor shower or something must have collided—a faint vibration, not enough to shake the ship, traveled through the floor to the soles of my feet.
In this quiet space where there was no morning or night, we shared time in silence, as if confirming the sound of each other's breathing.
The wonderful dishes lined up on the table, which had been giving off such lovely steam just a moment ago, were losing their warmth minute by minute, slowly growing cold. Seeing the incredible feast he had gone out of his way to recreate across dimensions turn cold with lukewarm oil floating on top made me feel vaguely guilty as I stared at it.
"…Fine," Morty muttered softly with a small sigh.
Whether he gave in, got exasperated, or surrendered to my persistence, the usual sarcastic sharpness was completely stripped from his tone, replaced by a soft, relaxed vibe.
"Next time we go out to the city, if there's something I want, you can buy it then. That'll satisfy you, right?"
"Is that okay?"
"'Is that okay?' …You're the one who wanted this. I'm letting you off the hook."
"Ah, but no vague 'next time' excuses. You were planning to pretend to promise and then brush it off later, weren't you?"
"……Huh. You caught me."
When I glared at him suspiciously, Morty's eyes widened in genuine surprise for a second, and then he shrugged helplessly with a light sigh.
"I know, because we're the same."
When I called him out, Morty looked increasingly awkward, yet a tiny bit pleased as his eyes darted around, his slender fingertips idly tracing the back of his fork. It was impossible to believe he was the same cold, flawless mastermind who destroyed the Citadel and broke the Central Finite Curve. Like a kid caught playing a prank, he was glaringly avoiding my eyes.
That gap was so funny, so endearing, that I couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.
"……What are you laughing at?"
"Because it's rare to see you make a face like that."
"I have expressions too. You're just simple and easy to read."
"You're the one who's hard to read! In the beginning, I couldn't tell at all if you were angry or happy."
"How rude. Even I…… smile a lot more since you came here."
Morty narrowed his eyes playfully, piercing me directly with his bare eye.
Hit out of nowhere by those unexpected words, my heart thumped wildly in my chest. Unable to take his gaze head-on, I hurriedly looked away, staring off in a completely random direction. Seeing that, he let out a bright, victorious laugh that echoed through the room.
"Ahaha! You really are so easy."
"……Ugh, that's because you suddenly said something embarrassing like that!"
Even as I turned red and protested, Morty kept chuckling happily. He wasn't laughing loudly, but his delicate shoulders shook slightly, and his mouth beneath his eyepatch curved into a beautiful arch.
This person… smiles like this.
With the exact same face, same genes, same voice—yet expressions I didn't know kept increasing on his face. Seeing my own features float with warm emotions I had never known felt a little strange, and impossibly dazzling.
"……You're laughing too much."
"…Because you're…… pfft…… hilarious……"
"Alright, alright, eat already. It's getting cold."
Trying to reset the mood to cover my embarrassment, I picked up my fork again.
The steak on the plate had cooled down completely, but when I cut a piece and chewed it, the concentrated meat flavor and rich butter spread across my mouth—it was still incredibly, deliciously amazing. Following my lead, Morty quieted his laughter and silently slid his silver knife across his plate.
For a while, the delicate sound of clinking cutlery and the quiet presence of distant, cold stars flickering through the thick biodome filled the room.
The quietness of this ship, where time felt frozen, might have been unbearable for the old me back on Earth. But for the current me, with another version of myself sitting across from me, it had become something I never wanted to let go of.
"…Is it good?"
When I looked up and asked, Morty stopped his fork mid-motion, pausing for a tiny fraction of a second. Then, without making a sound, he swallowed his food elegantly before giving a small nod.
"I tailored it to our taste, after all."
Saying that, he moved his silver fork again as if nothing had happened.
Our taste.
The other version of myself, who shared the same face, the same taste buds, and was born on the same day.
Come to think of it, it was the most obvious thing in the world. Morty knew Morty's preferences better than anyone else. He knew from the start what kind of seasoning would make my eyes light up and fill me with happiness.
Because I am Morty, and Morty is me.
"…Are we really completely the same?"
"Yeah. Because we're the same Morty."
He stated it as an absolute fact, like announcing yesterday's news. Then, with his slender fingertips, he reached for his glass and took the last sip of sparkling cider left at the bottom. The clear gold slid silently down his thin, graceful throat.
Setting the glass down softly, he continued talking, as if dropping soliloquies into the silent darkness of space.
"…You don't believe me?"
"I just… don't fully get it yet."
When I answered honestly, Morty let out a short chuckle.
"Haha, that's fine. I like that about you."
Morty took the last piece of steak left on his plate with his fork, brought it to his mouth, and swallowed it quietly. Then, as if nothing happened, he neatly wiped his mouth with a white cloth and began playing with a single drop left on the rim of the empty glass with his slender finger.
The strange, inescapable weight of his words, "I like that about you," floated sweetly in the silence of the biodome.
As for me, holding my fork, the inside of my chest swayed quietly and intensely, keeping me frozen in place for a long time. At the hidden, cold dining table in space, only the pale blue light of the sun quietly illuminated the two of us, unable to move.
"Dessert is birthday cake. Chocolate, of course."
With that, Morty stood up smoothly.
The delicate sound of cutlery clinking receded. The fork in my hand slowly landed on the edge of the plate, and I just watched his retreating back as he walked toward the kitchen.
Bathed in the faint blue light of the biodome, he walked the short distance into the dark. Morty always walked with surprisingly quiet, refined steps without a single wasted movement. I watched his back in silence.
Same face, same voice, same genes. Yet even in the way he walked, it was decisively different from mine. The way he placed his weight, the slight swing of his arms, the straightness of his spine. Every bit of it was flawless, like a highly calculated, beautiful piece of code.
If other people looked at me, would I look as dignified and beautiful as that? Remembering my usual posture, it was obvious I didn't.
While I was idly letting these scattered thoughts drift through my mind, the lights on the living room ceiling suddenly went out without a sound. Darkness claimed the room in an instant, leaving only the pale blue light filtering through the biodome to quietly trace the outlines of the space.
In the dark, I felt a quiet presence of Morty bringing something over from the kitchen.
The next moment, in the pitch-black darkness, two small, warm lights floated into view.
Candle flames.
The thin orange flames swayed gently with his light steps, approaching me directly.
"Here."
Placed softly on the table was a magnificent hall cake—obviously way too big for just the two of us to eat.
The smooth chocolate surface was coated flawlessly with glossy ganache, reflecting the blue sun light and the orange candle flames in complex patterns. On its side, a neatly shaved chocolate plaque was set at an angle, featuring neat, meticulous white cursive writing that read:
Happy Birthday Morty Smith
I stared at the letters on the plaque, holding my breath for a long time.
Nobody in the world knew that the two of us were sitting across from each other sharing a cake like this. A name written for just one person, by some pastry chef in another dimension or the ship's automated cooking system.
In this vast universe, infinite Mortys existed. Knowing in my head that there weren't just two, but thousands, tens of thousands, hurt. Yet, seeing the ordinary symbol "Morty Smith" presented right before my eyes as tangible letters felt strangely odd, ticklish, and deeply endearing.
"There's only one name," I said, pointing at the letters. Across the swaying candlelight, Morty raised the corner of his mouth slightly.
"Of course. You're Morty, and I'm Morty."
"I see. …It feels kinda weird."
"Does it? I think it's more logical than making them write the same name twice."
"Guess you're right."
Placing the cake carefully in the middle of the table, he sat back down in the chair across from me.
The two candle flames standing atop the cake flickered quietly, casting soft orange light and deep shadows over his sharp features. The black eyepatch covering one eye, and the bare eye looking straight at me. Deep inside that eye, two tiny flames flickered in his reflection.
"Go on, make a wish. Before the wax melts onto the cake."
"Are you the type to believe in superstitions like that?"
"Haha, who knows. Maybe if I'm listening, it'll actually come true."
"Pfft, what's that supposed to mean?"
I felt like I didn't have any wishes left anyway. There was nothing more I wanted in my hands. But seeing Morty softly fold his hands together in front of his chest, I copied him, closing my eyes lightly and overlapping my hands.
In the past, I thought I had a million wishes.
Wanting to be the most popular kid at school, wanting pocket money to buy cool sneakers, wanting to date Jessica—all those trivial things.
Feeling the coldness of the sun and the warmth of the flames as I closed my eyes, I suddenly remembered Rick.
What was Rick doing right now?
Since I only left a note, were Mom and Dad worrying about where I went? Summer… probably didn't care much, I thought with a faint, bitter smile.
Yet, Rick was the one person I couldn't erase from my head.
Exhaling alcohol-laced breath, was he still wildly fighting in some dangerous dimension right now? In a world without me, did he easily replace me with a new Morty and completely forget about me? Or… did he miss me, even just a little, and try looking for me?
I just hope Rick is happy somewhere, even a little bit.
Even though I no longer had the right to stand beside him, or the right to wish for such a thing.
Aching from the lingering attachment stuck in the corner of my mind, I opened my eyes slightly and looked across.
Morty had his chin resting on his joined hands, not even closing his eyes, just silently staring at my face. His bare eye was so clear, as if he could see right through all my flickering thoughts and hesitations.
"Aren't you gonna make a wish?"
"I already did."
"What did you wish for?"
"……I wished that your wish would come true."
His voice was so small it felt like it would disappear if blown on, yet it soaked softly into the silence of the room. A strange sense of fulfillment drifted across his face—as if he had given up on everything, yet possessed everything at the same time.
This person really might know everything about me. Even who I was thinking about for a split second just now.
"……You're really gentle."
That was all I could squeeze out. My voice was raspy and tiny, surprising even myself.
Morty didn't say anything back; he just moved his mouth slightly in the dark. Whether he smiled or not was hard to tell in the backlight of the candles. But I think he gave me a gentle smile.
"Let's blow out the candles."
Prompted, I took another deep breath.
Our breath hit the candles at the same time, and the two flames went out with a soft whoosh.
Two thin trails of white smoke drifted upward toward the ceiling in the dark. The sweet, toasted smell of burnt wax tickled our noses, melting quietly into the cold air of the biodome.
All that remained was the pale blue light of the sun filtering down from the ceiling. Light from an ancient star billions of light-years away quietly illuminated the two of us.
"Hey, what did you wish for?"
Morty asked casually as he picked up the silver knife for slicing.
I had no intention of telling the truth. I'm sure Morty knew it was a lie, too.
So I gave him the gentlest lie I could think of.
"…I wished that tomorrow, when we go out, you'd let me give you a present."
The movement of Morty's fingertips on the knife stopped dead in its tracks.
His bare eye went wide as he stared at me, and the next second, his shoulders shook as he burst out laughing, unable to hold it back.
"……Pfft, ahaha! What is that? That's not a wish, that's just an advance notice!"
"So what! To me, it's a super serious wish!"
I'm sure he knew it was a lie. There was no way someone as smart as Morty, someone who understood me better than anyone, wouldn't notice me looking away to cover it up.
Even so, he didn't try to expose my lie; he just shook his shoulders happily, laughing out loud. Because his laugh was so natural, unpretentious, and soft, I let out a sigh of relief and laughed along with him.
After laughing for a bit, Morty lightly wiped a tiny tear from the corner of his eye with his fingertip and neatly sliced the cake into equal portions. Then, he gently slid the plate with the half of the chocolate plaque that read Happy Birthday toward me.
"Ahaha, phew…… Fine, then. Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow, let's go into the city. Since there's no morning or night on this ship anyway, you can just wake up whenever you want."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Since you wished for it so passionately. Before God grants it, I'll grant it for you."
Smiling mischievously yet infinitely sweet, the inside of my chest tightened with a searing heat.
"Thank you, Morty."
"Only because you insisted. ……But keep your promise. Next year's birthday."
Across the plate with the cake, he pierced me with his bare eye. That gaze held a quiet, definite attachment and affection that refused to yield another step.
"Yeah, I promise!"
Without looking away, I stared straight into his eye and nodded deeply over and over.
Morty narrowed his eyes slightly at my excessively serious answer, looking a bit exasperated. But the fingertips picking up his fork, and his lowered long eyelashes, looked softly relaxed, as if deeply relieved.
I raised my empty glass slightly.
"Happy birthday, Morty."
Morty looked happier than he had all day, bringing his own glass over to clink against mine with a high, clear ring.
"Happy birthday to me!"
Outside the thick glass of the biodome, somewhere in the infinite darkness, the faint sound of small, unknown stardust colliding echoed softly in the quiet.