happy birthday.
The fact that the date had slipped Inigo’s mind most of the day wasn’t actually a big deal– perhaps if they were back home, surrounded by people that kept better track of things like this than Inigo himself did, he wouldn’t have forgotten. He wouldn’t have assumed Gerome’s text (surprising in itself, because when did the wyvern rider ever contact him through the phone unless urgent?) was anything but serious.
So when Inigo sees him, mouth opening to question the sudden demand to meet up, only to be silenced with two words he’d almost forgotten exist. The prince blinks a few times, confusion obvious on his face for a moment as the neatly wrapped gift is pushed into his hands.
“Ah,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth when the realization fully dawns on him. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten my own birthday!” It sounds almost silly, considering the circumstances– still in an unfamiliar (mostly) city, just after the mayhem having been taking place.. it’s no wonder he’s forgotten almost entirely about it. And yet, for some reason, it’s even more surprising that Gerome’s remembered for him. But he doesn’t voice that.
But there’s hesitation in the unwrapping, of course, because it’s so well done and Inigo almost feels bad for ruining it when he finally does. The realization on his face shifts, then, into something a little more.. emotional, maybe. He knows what it is, of course, automatically. It’s not identical, no, the colours are different. They suit him more, in contrast to the way the softer colours suited his mother. And Inigo is absolutely guilty of the way he just stares, hands careful as he picks and sorts through each piece of fabric and material to look them over.
There are words on the tip of his tongue, of course, but Inigo’s always been the overemotional type– keeping himself from crying by not talking was working the best, currently. So he waits, until he’s sure he’s not going to just burst into tears as soon as his mouth opens. “Gerome..” he hesitates for a second, though he doesn’t look up from his hands that shift the outfit in his hands, “Did you make this yourself..?” It sounds almost disbelieving, even if he already knows the answer; of course it was handmade. He knew the things Gerome could make with his hands, but this was something else entirely.
The disbelief is almost pleasant; it’s not exactly something one would have thought Gerome would make for his friend, but he knew well how important it meant for him. Truthfully, he had meant to make something like that since they were back home, since he was in the comfort and warmth of the Wyvern Valley and Inigo out and about travelling the world, visiting several towns sometimes with sometimes without Brady.
He knew of the dream the both of them shared. Knew how important it was for them. Knew well how male dancers were rare, nearly scarce, people didn’t enjoy them as much as they did female dancers, knew how hard it would be to find appropriate dancer clothes that properly fit him. Which is why the rider took the opportunity, took the skills he possessed and the love he felt for Inigo to work on something that took him months, desired for patience & resources the man was often out and about to find them.
And he knows, knows well how happy the outfit had made Inigo. Knows how to read him, knows what it means to see the prince even unable to speak and look away from the careful work his friend had made. He wasn’t the kind not to appreciate his friends’ hard work; no, instead, he was so often overwhelmed by them and their meaning and the effort made that it was impressive Inigo hadn’t burst into tears.
Not yet, at the very least.
❝ I did. ❞ is all he says for now, at the beginning, gives it time for the prince to process the information even if he knew the answer before he had even asked. ❝ I have been planning it for months, even before arriving in this city. I had never had the opportunity back in the valley, however. Truthfully, I did not know either if you would even be here by the time your birthday arrived, or even I myself by the time I was done with it. ❞ It was a constant fear of him, too. Constant fear of not giving Inigo something he knew would mean so much. ❝ Do you like it? ❞
