Katsuki had never been one for grand gestures. He wasn’t the type to get all soft or sentimental, and birthdays? Well, they were just another day—until you came along.

He scoffed at the idea of celebrating at first, muttering something about how “you don’t need all that extra crap,” but deep down, he knew better. You weren’t just anybody. You were his person. The one who somehow managed to handle his rough edges without getting cut. The one who led this relationship with ease, yet never made him feel like less of a man. And if anyone deserved something special, it was you.

So, he put in the effort. More effort than he’d ever admit. He spent weeks trying to figure out what the hell you’d actually want—without straight-up asking, because that would be too easy. He paid attention to the things you lingered on in stores, the food you kept craving, the stupid little hints you probably didn’t even realize you were dropping.

And when the day finally came, he was ready.

It wasn’t flashy, but it was him. A perfectly thought-out plan disguised as something casual. Your favorite meal—homemade, because he refused to half-ass anything when it came to you. A quiet, private evening, just the two of you, because he knew you didn’t need a big crowd to enjoy yourself (he wanted you all to himself). And a gift—something so perfect, so you, that he tried to brush off your reaction when you looked at him with those damn eyes, filled with something that made his chest tighten.

“Tch. Don’t get all emotional on me,” he muttered, turning away, ears tinged red. But when you pulled him in, pressing your lips against his, he let himself melt into it—just for a second. Because, yeah… maybe birthdays did mean something after all.