Four Birthdays Owen Harper Spends Alone (And One He Has No Choice Not To)
i.
Even though his mum's been threatening since he was eleven that he would be out of the house as soon as he turned sixteen, he never really thought she meant right away. She doesn't even wish him a 'Happy Birthday' before she begins throwing his belongings into a black plastic bag, whistling happily as she does so.
As the front door slams behind him, he thinks that it's the first time he's seen his mother smile in years and hates her all the more for it.
He spends the day alone sitting on a park bench, gripping his worn coat tightly to his chest even though it's not particularly cold, and wondering what the hell he did to deserve such a shitty hand in life.
ii.
He forgets it's even his birthday until he happens to glance at the calendar pinned to his notice board and see the red ink circle.
It doesn't matter, regardless. He's got six thousand words due in tomorrow and a lab to plan for the day after. He certainly doesn't have time for birthdays.
He turns back to his textbooks.
iii.
He still can't believe that she's gone; suddenly his normal, on track life has been replaced with aliens and guns and no Katie, and he constantly has to wonder whether this is all just some fucked up nightmare caused by grief and he's actually been put in the loony bin.
It's the first birthday he's spent alone since his second year of medical school, and he doesn't really know what to do with himself. He has absolutely nothing to celebrate, but for some reason, he can't bring himself to let the day pass by unmarked, and so, on his way back from the Hub, he picks up a bottle of cheap red wine and a pack of French Fancies, and retires to the flat that's more of a living space than a home.
He sticks a yellow and white candle, dug out from the bottom drawer in the kitchen, into one of the small, pink cakes and lights the wick.
He doesn't blow it out, he just watches it until there's wax on the floor and tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
iv.
He and Gwen have just broken off whatever it is they've been doing. Or rather, Gwen has because she's finally realised that guilt does come with the gig, and she can't just skate around having everything her own way without consequences.
Work ends. Gwen goes back to her cosy little life with her useless boyfriend. Owen goes to a bar with the sole intention of celebrating his birthday by getting well and truly pissed. A good night all round.
The vodka starts flowing and, though a handful of girls and even a couple of guys start their predictable chat up routines, he sends them all away within moments. This day has to be different than every other in some ways, after all.
v.
He's expecting things to be the same as last year – even planned which bar he's going to haunt for the night –but just as he grabs his jacket and goes to leave, Ianto appears in front of his desk.
"Happy Birthday," the Welshman says, simply.
"How'd you know?" Owen asks, aware that he's being rude, but it's not like Ianto's not used to it.
"I've told you time and time again; I know everything."
"Happy Birthday, Owen," Tosh says, leaning up to kiss him awkwardly on the cheek, blush beginning to rise prettily up her neck.
"Cheers, Tosh," he says.
"C'mon then you lot. At this rate the bar'll be shut before we even get there," Jack grins, patting Owen on the back as he passes and winking at Ianto who rolls his eyes at their boss's exuberance.
"Ooh, don't forget the pressies," Gwen laughs, picking up a plastic bag from behind her own desk and shrugging on her leather jacket.
"You alright?" Ianto asks quietly as the two girls begin laughing loudly at some innuendo laden joke Jack has just told.
Owen grins. "Couldn't be better."
And he means it.