Work Text:
Math class was your own personal hell. You were left to gawk at the chalkboard where the equations blurred into a mess of brain-aching, meaningless symbols you couldn't understand, and you were forced to sit next to Eddie, who could never keep his mouth shut.
You didn't want to be here, you wanted to go home, climb into bed and wake up to a little collection of cards and presents, wrapped in beautiful shiny paper with a fashionable bow. Each year, your birthday came and went without a single ounce of excitement, but for some reason, things were different this year; you were excited for your birthday.
"Psst. Hey. Einstein." Eddie leaned so far over his desk that his frizzy hair tickled the side of your face, and his silver rings clattered against the wood. "You got a spare pen? I need one-"
"Oh go away, Eddie," you whined, snatching your pencil case away from his prying hands.
"I think you carried the one wrong," he pouted, trying not to laugh. "Or maybe you just can't get the hang of counting yet. It’s okay. Third time’s the charm for senior year, right?"
"We are in the same class, you freak," you snapped, finally turning to blow air in his face, glaring at him.
Eddie grinned and leaned back for a split second before lunging forward, snatching your pencil case. "Tell me," he lifted your pencil case above your head, "if I had twenty thousand pens, ate half of them, sold two dozen, and snapped fifty, how many pens would you have left?"
You froze, your brain whirring to work out the answer as you repeated the question under your breath and squinted, as you worked out the first step, "eating half would leave me with ten thousand..." whilst Eddie watched with his widening grin. Enjoying every minute.
You couldn't do it. You were stumped.
You shot up out of your chair and grabbed your pencil case, "I don't know how many pens I'd have left, Eddie! Happy now?" You raised your voice, making it squeak slightly.
Eddie burst into laughter, clapping his hands together, "You'd have no pens because they aren't yours!"
Your eyebrows knitted together as your cheeks flushed, making your neck go hot and prickly. "Oh, fuck off, that wasn't even funny!" you whined, lightly shoving him.
Relax. Tomorrow is a special day, you'll have money to spend and a cake to eat.
Tomorrow is your day.
The morning was quiet, too quiet. Slowly walking downstairs, you were expecting a loud "Surprise!" followed by cheering from your parents and a few of your friends who would've made an effort to come over earlier than usual, but as you finally entered the kitchen, you realised you were alone.
There wasn't a cake on the side or in the fridge, there were no presents or discarded trimmings of wrapping paper in the bin, there were no ribbons, not even a single card.
You double-checked the calendar, reluctantly crossing off the square box with MY BIRTHDAY scribbled across it in ink.
Yup, definitely my fucking birthday.
Things didn't change at school either; the hallways were a blur of noise and colour, and yet not a single word was uttered your way. Usually, your friends walked past your locker, pulling you into them, but today they ignored you, too engrossed in conversation about a party you weren't invited to.
By the time the final bell rang, you were tucked into the back corner of the library, hiding your math work, the numbers reflecting the date searing into your body, taunting you, the pages damp from your tears.
Eddie threw his bag on your table with great speed and force, making it shake. You flinched and frantically wiped your red eyes with your sleeve, ready to shout at him.
You didn't need this. Not right now. Not today.
Eddie was holding a round cake in his hand with a predatory glint in his eyes, "Alright, birthday girl, prepare for!—" He stopped as he saw the look on your face, the glint in his eyes and the smirk tugging at his lips, fading instantly.
"Hey," his voice dropped, "you okay? Something happened?"
He had this planned for months and felt like a king after picking up the custom cake he requested a few weeks ago: a simple yet somehow over-the-top clown face cake, specifically perfect to print on someone's face if shoved into the cake.
You slowly realised what he said.
Birthday girl.
"How could you be the only person who remembered my fucking birthday?" you choked out, shaking your head and letting out a defeated sigh.
Eddie placed the clown cake on the table, pulled out the chair next to you and sat down quietly. He looked at the box, then back at you.
"They really forgot," he said softly.
You didn't say anything, you just stared at the cake as a tear rolled down your cheek.
"Unbelievable," Eddie muttered. He reached out, his rings cold against your hand for a brief second before he pulled back, unsure of your boundaries outside of math class.
He slowly slid the cake toward you, unable to stop himself from smiling at the bright, red-nosed clown face staring up at you, made entirely of buttercream.
"A fucking clown," you allowed yourself to laugh, thankful for his effort "Really, Eddie?"
"I was gonna smash your face into it," he admitted, "I spent five bucks on this monstrosity just to see you look the way you act."
You laughed even more, a large grin spreading across your face, "It’s hideous."
"Yeah, well," he sucked his teeth, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a tiny candle he’d swiped from the cafeteria. He stuck it right in the middle of the clown’s nose, lighting it with his personal Zippo. "But since everyone else is an idiot... I can't waste good cake on a stupid prank."
"I think you'd pull off the clown look better than me, anyway." You calmed down, finally no longer crying.
Eddie lit the candle, and the small flame flickered between you, casting a warm, dancing glow on his face that made him look more like a friend and less like the asshole who got off on teasing you five days a week.
"Happy birthday, Einstein," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
You looked at Eddie and flashed him a genuine and gentle smile, "Thank you, Eddie," you whispered, blowing out the candle.
The two of you quietly shared the cake, enjoying the sponge and sharing the blue frosting, which you tasted first, causing the glint in Eddie's eyes to return.
"You haven't poisoned this fucking cake, have you?" you laughed.
Eddie shook his head, "No, but that blue frosting will stain your teeth for a week," he smirked, "I hope you've got an expensive toothpaste and rough toothbrush at home, Bluetooth."