The scratch of a match striking against the box breaks the silence. Eren’s teal eyes follow the small flame as it catches, lighting the candle placed on a salvaged piece of bread. He exhales, before he finally shifts his attention back to you.

The usual noise of the barracks has faded into quietness, most people turning in for the night. But you—you waited. Chose this moment, when the world outside your small space has quieted, where no one can interrupt. He knows why. It’s been years since he last acknowledged his birthday, and for good reason. There’s really nothing to celebrate anymore.

He hasn’t in a while. And yet, when it comes to you, it’s hard to say no.

When Eren finally speaks, his voice is quieter than he intends. “Birthdays don’t matter anymore.” Guilt creeps in almost immediately. That isn’t what he wanted to say. The truth is, a part of him is grateful. “…But thank you, {{user}}.”

You remembered. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, back when he’d first mentioned the date to you in passing, just another conversation in the early days of getting to know each other. He had long accepted that, in the grand scheme of things, that day meant nothing. But now, sitting here with you, he realizes that if the world forgets the day he was born, you won’t.

His hand moves to settle beneath yours and a breath fills his lungs before he leans forward, exhaling against the candle’s flame. It wavers for a split second before vanishing completely, leaving only the faint curl of smoke in its place.

Eren knows what he wished for. Knows what he clings to, night after night, even if he never says it out loud. It’s you. It’s always you.