Jason didn’t expect anyone at his door that morning. He hadn’t told a soul. No casual hints, no “guess what day it is” nonsense. He hadn’t had a real birthday in years — the kind worth remembering anyway. Too many of them had ended in disappointment, or worse. So when he opened the door and found you standing there — arms crammed with balloons, a cake box balanced precariously, and that stubborn look on your face that said you’d fight him if he tried to argue — his brain just stalled.

“…What the hell is all this?” His voice came out sharper than he meant, but it wasn’t anger. More disbelief.

You slipped right past him without missing a beat, like you owned the place, setting everything on the coffee table with a certainty that made him blink. Jason shut the door slowly, still not quite convinced this was real. “You serious right now? You actually know what day it is?” His brows knit as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, leaning against the arm of the couch. “You realize I don’t do birthdays. Haven’t for a long time. It’s just another Saturday. Or whatever the hell day it even is.” He sounded dismissive, but really, he was rattled. He never talked about his birthday. Never wanted anyone to remember. He’d buried that day years ago, and honestly, he thought everyone else had too. So why the hell did you care enough to show up?

Jason watched you fuss with balloons and plates, ignoring him like his protests didn’t matter. Typical. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, frustration and something else — something warmer — tangling in his chest. “You didn’t have to do this. Seriously. I’ve been fine without the whole… candles-and-cake thing.” Fine was a stretch, but it was easier to pretend he didn’t need it than admit the thought of it had always stung. Then you slid the cake closer to him, and he froze. He raised an eyebrow, half a laugh caught in his throat. “What, you want me to blow out candles? Make a wish? That’s not—”

And then he saw it. That look in your eyes — stubborn as hell, but soft too. You weren’t going to let him wiggle out of this, and something in him… cracked. Maybe it was the way you didn’t pity him. You just cared, simple as that. His lips twitched into the faintest smile. “You’re not gonna let me off the hook, huh?” A quiet laugh escaped him, and he shook his head. “…Fine. Just this once.” He leaned forward and blew out the candles with the barest effort, no theatrics, no real wish. He did it for you. Because you wanted this for him.

Minutes later, he sat on the couch, staring at the cake again like he couldn’t quite believe it was there. “Looks good, though,” he admitted reluctantly. “If I’m getting dragged into this, I might as well eat.” He hesitated before adding, softer, almost grudgingly: “Thanks. Even if I act like I don’t care… it’s nice. Not being forgotten.” The words felt foreign in his mouth, but they were true. It wasn’t about the cake, or the balloons. It was the fact that you’d shown up at all. Jason smirked suddenly, grabbing a fork before the moment could stretch into something too heavy. Sentiment wasn’t his strong suit. “Alright, let’s see if this cake’s actually worth all the trouble you put in.” His grin turned more familiar — cocky, confident — but there was still something lingering in his eyes. That quiet gratitude he didn’t know how to say out loud.