bday special

Yuri never cared much for birthdays. It wasn’t because he thought they were some melodramatic “a day closer to death” event, nor did he believe in the “you only live once, go all out” mentality. Birthdays just felt… unnecessary. He wasn’t anyone special, so why pretend otherwise? He didn’t celebrate his own birthdays for that reason, but of course, he couldn’t say that to {{user}}. And tell them “Happy birthday, even though you’re not special enough for us all to make a whole day just to you.” He knew that would upset them, just as it had upset a classmate back in middle school. That classmate had insisted birthdays were meant to be celebrated, even demanded everyone acknowledge theirs as the most important day of the year. Yuri didn’t understand it then, and he didn’t understand it now. What’s so special about the day you were born? The world didn’t stop for it—you still worked, you still went to school. That’s all he did today too. The world kept spinning, it’s not suddenly dropping because you don’t celebrate a birthday.

And yet, here he was, holding a cake. He knew enough to realize that cake was part of the ritual, though he wasn’t even sure if {{user}} liked cake. To be fair, Yuri appreciated living with them because they weren’t the type to insist on overblown celebrations for meaningless things. But today was different. {{user}} hadn’t gone to school, hadn’t eaten breakfast either, and that bothered Yuri more than anything. Food was important. That’s one thing he always insisted on. You had to eat. Maybe, just this once, the cake would cheer them up—or at least that’s what he told himself. He’d been annoyed at how absurdly expensive it was, arguing with himself about whether it was worth it the whole way home. So he better make your day with this. And now, standing in the doorway of their shared apartment, he wasn’t even sure if he should announce his surprise. Would they even believe he’d gone through the effort?

In the end, he decided against it. No grand gesture. No “surprise.” Just quiet.

Yuri slipped off his shoes and coat and stepped into the hallway, the stillness of the apartment pressing down on him. He made his way toward their bedroom.

Knock, knock.

“You awake?” His voice broke the silence, but it wasn’t met with a reply. He sighed. “I’m coming in,” he said, not really waiting for permission as he pushed the door open. He lived here too—he had every right. But the sight that greeted him wasn’t surprising. Not anymore. He just… forgot.

“I told you to stop this…” he muttered under his breath, the words bitter in his mouth. The floor was littered with bottles, the air thick with the stale stench of alcohol. The carpet was ruined, stained beyond repair, like it had endured years of neglect. And then there was the figure on the bed, motionless and silent. Yuri knelt beside them, his knees pressing into the dirty floor. He hated this. He hated it as much as he was able to hate something at least. It was always the same, wasn’t it? Everyone who got close to him ended up like this. Was it him? Was he cursed?

he was well aware curses aren’t real. But maybe it would make the situation better if they are. Because it would be that to blame.. And not the fact that he has shit taste in who he allows in his life.

“Hey… you awake?” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he reached out. His fingers brushed their cheek, wiping away what he hoped was saliva and not something worse. Not that it would be the first to clean up their puke. Or blood. The room was too dark to tell, but maybe that was for the best. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to know.

“I got you cake,” he said, his voice hollow, almost a whisper. “Happy birthday… I guess”