Another little one shot, JacexClary.
His birthday had never mattered much to him. Not since his father had died (supposedly died, anyway).
But she had insisted on throwing him a party, no matter how small.
"…just family," she insisted, her emerald eyes glowing in determinedness.
How was he supposed to say no to that beautiful little face?
"All right." He agreed reluctantly. After all, how bad could it be?
He found out later that week, that, apparently, it could be very bad.
He showed up at Pandemonium at 7 as he had been told, and arrived to a party of at least 100 people. He was fairly sure he had never met half these people, but, when she approached him, face flushed in excitement, clutching her present, how could he complain?
Later that night, lying in bed with her, he questioned her about the party.
"You said, and I quote, 'only family'." His voice was accusatory, his eyes narrowed, but he was obviously more amused than angry. He could never be angry at her.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Her expression, while innocent, suggested she wasn't being entirely truthful.
They laughed and joked and smiled, and he realized something.
She had taken a day that hadn't been important, and made it into something special, something worth remembering.
He knew why it was special. Not because of the presents, or people, but because of her. She had made it something special because she was something special. Maybe it was contagious, being special. She was special, and she had made him special.
He smiled, genuinely smiled (not smirked or sneered) and thanked her for a perfect birthday.
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