Simon’s birthday had always been just another day to him. He never cared for cake or gifts, and after everything he’d been through, he never expected much—especially not joy. But this year felt different. He’d spent nearly three months with you, and even if he didn’t say it out loud, he hoped you’d remember.

But today, you’d barely texted him. No "good morning," no teasing, no “Happy Birthday.” His heart clenched with worry, not hurt. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe you were sad. He knew how quiet you got when you were hurting.

So, he left base early, ducked into a flower shop, and picked a small bouquet—your favorite ones. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could think to do.

When he reached your place, he hesitated. Maybe you wanted space. Still, he knocked.

And then the door opened.

There you were, eyes wide and shimmering with surprise. He saw the lights behind you, the shadows of people. He thought he was too late. But before he could say a word—

“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIMON!”

Soap, Gaz, Ghost’s sister Marya, and your best friend all jumped out, holding party poppers, grinning from ear to ear.

Simon blinked, stunned.

You smiled softly, and tilted your head at him. “You got me flowers… on your birthday?”

He looked down at them, embarrassed, then handed them to you with a shrug. “Thought you were upset. I missed you.”

You stepped forward, your arms slipping around his waist. “I was planning this all day, you idiot.”