Word Count: 567
Summary: “I always thought birthdays were supposed to feel like a fresh start, you know?”
You tilted your head, watching him. “And this one doesn’t?”
Pairing: Ricky X Reader
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Ricky had always liked the idea of new beginnings. There was something comforting about the thought of turning the page, of leaving the past behind and stepping into something fresh, something unwritten. His birthday had always been that moment for him—the clock striking midnight, a quiet promise in the air that things could change for the better.
But this year, something was different.
You noticed it the moment the candles were blown out, when the laughter and cheers faded into a lull, leaving only the two of you sitting on the balcony of his apartment. The city below was alive with neon lights and fleeting conversations, but Ricky? Ricky was quiet.
“You’re unusually serious tonight,” you said, nudging his arm.
He exhaled a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah… I guess I am.”
You waited, knowing better than to push him before he was ready. Ricky had always been like that—introspective, thoughtful. He spoke when he had something to say, and you had long since learned that silence was just another language he used to express himself.
After a while, he sighed, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the hem of his sweater. “I always thought birthdays were supposed to feel like a fresh start, you know?”
You tilted your head, watching him. “And this one doesn’t?”
He hesitated. “It feels like… like something’s ending instead.”
His words settled between you like an unfinished puzzle, their meaning just out of reach. You frowned, shifting closer so your shoulder brushed his. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Ricky admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I just feel like… I’ve been waiting for something to change. Like maybe if I keep moving forward, things will start making sense. But right now, it just feels like I’m leaving things behind without knowing if I should.”
Your heart ached at the uncertainty in his voice. “You don’t have to figure everything out right away,” you murmured. “Not everything changes just because the clock hits midnight.”
He looked at you then, and for the first time that night, something in his expression softened. “Maybe you’re right.”
You smiled, nudging him lightly. “I usually am.”
That earned a quiet chuckle from him, and you could tell he appreciated your presence, the steadiness you offered. Ricky had always been strong, always composed, but moments like this—when he let himself be vulnerable—reminded you that even the strongest people needed a hand to hold sometimes.
The night stretched on, but neither of you moved. The city continued its quiet hum around you, but in that little corner of the world, it was just the two of you, sitting close enough to feel each other’s warmth.
Ricky exhaled slowly, his gaze still distant but his shoulders less tense. “Maybe this chapter isn’t about leaving something behind,” he murmured. “Maybe it’s about realizing what I want to keep.”
Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay steady. “And what do you want to keep?”
He turned toward you, and for the first time that night, he looked certain. “You.”
Your chest tightened, warmth blooming beneath your ribs. You’d always been by Ricky’s side, a quiet presence through all his beginnings and endings. And maybe, just maybe, this time was no different.
Maybe, this was the start of something new.
And maybe, for once, neither of you had to face it alone.
