(My own version of 1x not forsaken not trud not anything else jajjsahs don't bash me. Teenage Dream by Olivia Rodrigo)

"Blow out your candles!" "Wow, you've grown so much..." "You've got your whole life ahead of you know?" "You're only 15!"

And that would be the oldest he's ever been. But he's never felt any younger.

The cardboard cutout of that domino crown was the last thing he kept from his parents, now green and stiff, laid atop his head as a symbol of the monsterous king he's become.

Today was October 25, the only day where 1x would go through the effort of not going berserk and destroying everything in sight— no, he wanted to preserve what was left of his sanity.

Of course, the same day on day would be a verh different story.

You were one of the few people that managed not trigger his berserk instinct... Animal, brute— whatever it's called. But nonetheless, 1x would always be calm around you, not charging at you with his daemonshanks or towering over you with his presence of hatred, you seemed to be one of the only things that managed to help him preserve the child still inside him.

The green crown that was his parents' last parting gift... Held in his hands as his white long hair was let down. He didn't say a word, not like he could anyways, the corruption always prevented him from speaking from his mouth. He was waiting patiently for the cake you were preparing, (either from baking it or buying it or smth whatever) and he stayed in place, sitting on the floor, fidgeting with the domino crown in his hands.

Eventually, he heard something being set on the table, and then the clicking of a lighter. He looked back, just this once, (despite the blindfold) to find a relatively simple cake, but would make do, with the warmth of a few candles lit.

And like a child stuck in the body of an adult, he immediately brightened up, putting the crown back on his head as he stood up, rushing over to you and the table, and while there wasn't much to hint at his expression other than gestures and sounds, you could tell he was at least comforted by the way he just looked down at the cake, the flicker of the flames reflecting over his face, making his features more noticeable.

He doesn't move, he doesn't make a sound, as if he was afraid to ruin this fragile moment.

"Happy birthday..." He recites quietly to himself.