Another year come and gone.
Sitting at his desk, Dante stared at the single candle he had found in one of his drawers earlier this morning, slowly twirling it with his fingers in the way someone might twirl a pencil. Over and under, over and under, it was all one rhythmic pattern. The candle itself wasn't anything special. It wasn't brightly colored; it didn't make noise or refuse to be blown out like so many birthday candles. In fact, someone could almost say that the candle was simple, sporting only a red body with a white stripe running around it. The wick had long been burned off, leaving only a blackened stump behind. The candle itself was about half the size of a normal candle. Once upon a time, the wick had been long and white, and the candle had been tall and proud. Once upon a time, Dante had stuck it into a cake and lit it for the first time.
That had been a long time ago. Back before he had been forced to grow up. In all honesty, Dante wasn't sure how the candle had managed to follow him through all the years, but there was something almost homey about it. Just feeling the grooved wax against his fingers was enough to make the half-devil smile just a touch. This smile was different from all his others. It was something softer, something that touched his eyes and brought warmth to his face, despite the hints of bittersweet in his eyes.
It was dead silent in the shop this evening. There were no visitors, there was no music playing, and there weren't the soft sounds of the TV playing to keep him company. Slowly, Dante raised his eyes from the old candle, allowing his gaze to roam over his shop, a quiet sigh escaping him. "Guess this is as close to home as I can get, huh?" he asked, not really speaking to anyone. Pushing himself away from his desk, Dante got to his feet and stretched, grimacing a bit as sore muscles complained about the sudden motion. The past couple of months had been rough on the hunter; but it wasn't age that was catching up with him. In all standards, Dante was still fairly young. Leading an active life was what was starting to catch up with him. Taking all of the beatings from demons, fighting so many nasty things, it was bound to leave its mark. At the moment, it was just a little soreness every now and then, and with any luck that was what it would stay. Nobody knew about the problem, he didn't need any sort of remarks about it, and it was only because he was alone that Dante had allowed the grimace, even going as far as to rub his shoulder.
"Looks like you aren't the only one getting worn down," Dante muttered with a slight scoff to the candle he still held. "Just be happy you've only had to deal with fire once a year for a while. It's a lot rougher out there than you may think." Talking to a candle wasn't the healthiest of things, but as the silence in the shop pressed on; Dante took comfort in the sound of his own voice. Making his way across the wooden floor, Dante made his way into the kitchen. Gingerly placing the candle onto the counter, the devil hunter turned toward the fridge and carefully opened it, eyes scanning the shelves in a fairly restless manner. It had been a long time since he had truly celebrated his birthday, but for some reason, this year he felt particularly anxious. The quiet of the shop was doing something to him that had never happened before. In a pathetic way, he wanted to go out and find someone to keep company. He wanted to find someone to celebrate with, because in his business, every birthday was sacred. Hunters died every year, living to see your birthday was an accomplishment.
Although Dante wasn't one known for resisting temptation, this was something he wasn't going to give into. Squaring his shoulders, the half-devil carefully took out a cupcake from the back of his fridge. It was bare, he hadn't had time to frost it, but such things had stopped mattering to the hunter a long time ago. Leaning over, Dante kicked the fridge door shut and snagged the beaten down candle, making his way back to the desk. Carefully, he took a seat at his desk, settling back into his chair. For just a moment, Dante turned his attention to the window, watching as the neon light from his sign lit up the front of his shop. That small smile was still on his face, though the amount of bittersweet in his eyes had increased a bit. The shop, now that he had finished speaking, had gone back to being nearly silent. Shaking his head a few times, Dante turned his attention to the cupcake placed on his desk, picking up his candle and carefully placing it within the dessert. A moment later, he added a similar candle, though this one was blue rather than red.
Rummaging around in one of his drawers, Dante pulled out a lighter. After only a moment of hesitation, he lit what was left of the wicks on both candles, watching as more wax fell from the candles. Another year, and another notch was gone from the candles. Leaning forward, Dante took a deep breath, and blew out both of the candles at once, a quiet chuckle escaping him.
"Happy birthday, Verg. Happy birthday to me too."