Day Twenty-Seven: Sunday
Twenty-Seventh Challenge: On One of
Their Birthdays
He swallowed nervously and picked up the box of
chocolates that he bought the day before. It was nothing simple; it was just a
small silver box with ten small treats inside. It took him nerve to sneak out
and buy the package at the nearest store, and keep them away from his best
friend nonetheless. But he had made it, he had the treat, all he needed to do
was muster enough courage to leave it by her bedroom door. Matt touched the
box, feeling the shiny and smooth silver wrapper and the red bow that wrapped
it up. His anxiety nearly killed him; every cell in his body yelled at him to
just leave it by her door.
But it wasn’t that easy.
He didn’t know if she was still asleep or already
out of her room, he didn’t know if someone would pass by the box on the ground
and steal it. Immediately his hand scrambled for the felt-tip marker on his
desk as well as the small piece of paper that lay below it. In his hasty script
he wrote:
Heather,
Happy
Birthday!
-
A Friend
That seemed to fit.
He had hesitated on how to sign himself. Should he
use his real name? A code name? Finally, he decided on ‘friend’ and signed. Matt
smiled, proud at the note and the gift, and stepped out of his room with the
gift in hand, the paper snuggly fit under the red ribbon of the box.
He walked to the stairs and headed up, knowing
exactly where her room was – not that he stalked her or anything like that. Mello
had always dragged him around the orphanage, going everywhere and pointing to
the different doors and telling him whoever was lived inside. He could remember
the blonde Russian sneering at Near’s door and shuddering at Beyond’s. Mello
gave a respectful nod at A’s and then passed by the dark wooden door with the
number 428 on it, and stopped moving for a bit.
“I forgot
who was in here,” he muttered. Matt eyed him blankly.
“Boy?”
“No, ah –
Linda. Linda and…” he struggled to pin her name. “…that girl who plays the
piano and doesn’t really talk.”
Matt tried
to remember any one of the sort and frowned himself. Who was this girl who
shared a room with the talkative painter named Linda? And how did she take it? The
girl must have had a lot of patience to begin with.
“She’s
German, as far as I can remember. Or half.”
“You
remember her nationality but not her name,” scoffed Matt. Mello whacked him on
the head. “OW – what the bleeding hell was that for?!”
“I’m
trying to remember, ass. Okay, now I do. Her name is Heather. She’s the
black-haired girl who doesn’t interact with anyone else.”
“Heather…”
Matt paused.
So that
was her name…
Luckily,
Mello did not seem to notice his stopping and dragged him away, ranting about
Near (again) and his plans to take over the ‘little shrimp’ who stood in his
way (again).
Matt stopped in front of the same wooden door and pressed
his ear against it. He could hear someone rustling in bed, and he guessed that
it was her. Linda was always up bright and early, usually downstairs at the Art Room
He held the box in his hands and looked down at it.
He wondered if the brunette girl remembered her
friend’s birthday.
At that thought, he heard the person inside get out
of bed. A small groan came as well and he panicked, dropping the box in his anxiety.
It made a loud noise when it hit the floor, and the ginger-haired boy swore
rather loudly.
“Bleeding hell!”
“…is
someone outside?”
“Son of a gun,” he muttered, quickly fixing the box
neatly on the floor and stumbling off, by the staircase where he could see her,
but her not see him. He held his breath, twiddling his thumbs and watching
silently as the door slowly opened, her poking her head out. Her long black
hair was in a single ponytail, looking like it was curls. That was unusual, her
hair was straight. Perhaps it was because of how long it spent its time in a
bun…
“…a
friend?”
She picked up the box, and Matt had the urge to
casually come in and greet her. But if he did, then she would probably know it
was him. He swore once more and watched, seeing her eye it with a curious
expression on her face. Maybe he should greet her. He cleared his throat and
strolled casually, giving her a smile.
She jumped a bit at his sudden appearance.
“Is that a gift?” he asked in all innocence.
She seemed to narrow her eyes at him.
“Yes, it is. Would you know who it’s from?”
She showed him the paper and Matt squinted at it.
“No…must be from one of your friends.”
“It can be.” She shrugged, preparing to go back
inside her room.
Matt called out before she could.
“H-Hey, er…” he mentally facepalmed at his stutter.
“…is it your birthday?”
Her closed-off looked seemed to melt away at his
guess, most likely in shock.
“Yes…” she looked down at the chocolates, and then
at him. “…the note says that, obviously.”
“Just asking you know, since the person who gave
that might have been wrong,” he laughed nervously and then managed a smile at
her. “Happy birthday, then.”
She smiled back.
A little.
Even so, his heart sped up a little more.
“Thank you.”
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