It’s probably not his best wrapping job. He’d been in a hurry. But it’s colorful, golds and blues, and the lid sports a large, if uneven, red bow tied proudly around it.
He fumbles it from his bag with one hand, because the other has the small cake perched just so.
The balance is awkward, especially with the cloud of balloons bumping into the back of his head, turning his hair into a staticky mess. But he smiles when he sees Isaak.
His gait is long for someone his age, and Isaak’s is longer, but the mall’s a big place. So even once he spots Isaak, it takes him a moment to reach them.
“Hey. My friend made you a cake. Uh—”
He holds out the box unceremoniously, smile tilting.
“This is for you. Happy Birthday.”
It’d taken him a while to find a gift. Days actually. But when he came across the music box, he’d been transfixed.
Wood and brass, wound by a key with a painted dancing bear twirling inside.
Something old and forgotten, repeating itself perfectly. Something full of memories and sentiments and so much time spent alone on a shelf. Something that must’ve been loved once—and maybe could be again.
The old man who ran the shop had taken it apart, polished each piece, reassembled it with careful hands, then told Ichigo with a smile that it might last another hundred years.
"Open it."
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ↳ Happy Belated Birthday, Isaak.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤIt was a PARTY, after all.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤEven The Mall, knew of the day.
With each wheezing sigh, and tremor of corridors, locations INNARDS, produced something more festive. Balloons, dotted corners. Ribbons and streamers, of bright, bright red, ( ENDTRAILS, ENDTRAILS, ENDTRAILS ! ) lined halls. In the concourse, a pile of shiny - wrapped boxes, and gifts galore.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤBut the day, was HOLLOW.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThe Mall tried ; but upon this day,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤIsaak is oft reminded, that it is alone.
'Pon tiled floor does it sit, legs sprawled out on either side of it, hands resting palm - up. A little party hat, balanced precariously in a MESSY NEST, of white tresses. It smiles, still, but the light does not reach its' eyes, there is no JOY, here on this day. Slow, does the echo of footfall reach it, head twisting, twisting, TWISTING, to an almost painful degree to look at its' back. Eyes, unfocused, and all at once, snap to meet he who would stumble so bravely down these halls, to meet Isaak each week. Body follows head, turning with a softened creak, a few wet POPS! It pushes itself to stand, hat falling by the wayside. A visitor. On its' birthday.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOne, to whom it NE'ER, wanted to bring harm.
A cake ; with its' name, etched in red icing, and a circlet of candles to outline the rim. Balloons, of a brighter and cheery hue, at the back of Ichigo's head, but most of all, that box. Spindly fingers take hold, and it pulls the item close, curve of claws hooking and tearing into paper ( IT DID SO, JUST AS EASILY, WITH SKIN, WITH SKIN, WITH SKIN. ) until it can lift lid of box.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤIt does freeze there, bewildered.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤUpper set of eyes, drifts to meet Ichigo's gaze.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤBack down, to music box.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ❝ ... FOR - OR - OR ... ISAAK ? KEE - EE -EE - EEP ? ❞
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤIt was beautiful.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThoughtful.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤKind.
Its' arms, rail thin and frail in appearance, wrap firm 'round Ichigo. Heat, of Shinigami's living form, ( WAS HE LIVING, AFTER ALL HE'D ENDURED ? ) seeps into Isaak's tunic, into skin that clings to flesh. It was something. It was someone. EVEN IF ONLY IN THEORY.
It pulls back, and key is turned, tinny tune playing, echo soft through the building. A bark of laughter, somewhat sorrowful, near, leaves its' throat. It's a reminder ; a reminder, of things that were, once. Of simpler times, with happier people. Of the present, with a FRIEND that seemed to care for it, unconditionally. A shift, of twiggish fingers, that comb through crown of tangerine hair.
ㅤ
ㅤ❝ ... LI - LI - LIKE ... IT ... THAN - AN - ANK YOU ... ❞
