Pride Aside

Some time ago*

Even the gloomy gray skies outside your window couldn't keep you from smiling as you admired your masterpiece in front of you.

“Finally got it right! Drew is going to love this!” You gushed, slowly spinning the revolving cake stand.

It wasn't just years and passion that made you such a dedicated and aspiring baker, but the circumstances: it was your little brother's birthday tomorrow. Even though you loved your brother to death, you knew he could be a picky eater. While he's never complained about your baking, you didn't want to give him any reason to start. 

Before he left a few days ago to be with your father and his smother, he kept dropping hints at how much he wanted to try homemade Tres Leches cake topped with fruit. Most would have been annoyed with their younger sibling ‘pushing’ at them to work on their days off, you were silently grateful. Drew, as annoying as he could be, was actually quite considerate when it came to you. He had given you something to keep you occupied while he was away. Sure, you had your part-time job, but you were on break from classes and had more time to think about your late mother than usual this time of year.

Your step mother, Drew’s mom, was a nice lady and always open to you as a daughter, but she wasn’t your mom-not that you were looking for a replacement. You always found yourself apprehensive about family life as a whole. But at the same time wanting it. Because of this, you always got an array of conflicting feelings. Mainly, they consisted with being both content with being along in your apartment after Drew finished his stay (for however long he decided) and lonely when he went back home.

Even though your dad wasn’t keen on the idea of you moving out so early when you just turned 18, he navigated through this as best as he could. He was always proactive in making sure you knew he was there and that Drew was allowed to stay over at your spacious apartment usually whenever. However, Drew’sschedule has become more rigid this holiday due to hockey practice. But now, he had some time spare and asked for a specially made cake- the perfect motivation for you to zone out  and kick you in gear. 

The size you made in front of you wasn't overtly large compared to the other you had sitting in the fridge, which is fine considering this was a tester. You wanted to test the aestheticsOutside, it looked good; the perfect amount of  cream topping was added, and it didn't appear soggy. The only thing that made a frown twitch at the corner of your lips was the fruit topping, a cherry. It wasn't as if it weren't aesthetically pleasing. You actually liked the idea of adding fruit to the top; you just knew Drew didn't like cherries; he was more of a strawberry guy. 

“No worries, I’ll use the last few I have for the official cake in the fridge.” You say, lifting your spirits back up. “For now, it won't hurt to have some of this for myself." 

Just as you're about to pick up a nearby fork, a ripple of knocks comes at your front door. Your brows furrow as you take a glance at the clock: 7:30 p.m. Not inordinately late for someone to stop by, but one look outside the window would leave one to believe that not even delivery would feel inclined to go out in the sudden downpour.

More knocks come at the door, just as light but more rapid as the ones before. 

“Y/n? Are you home? It's me."

Me?

You recognize the voice. 

Stepping away from the counter, you take the disposable mesh net off your head of curls, tossing it in the trash. Once you untie your waist apron and drape it on a chair, you step across your apartment's threshold to the front door. When you swing it open, you're met with a pair of piercing ocean blue eyes staring up at you. 

Gojo. Drew’s best friend, and teammate on his hockey team.Drew did ask earlier this week if his friend could stay over for a bit. Even if, as a younger teen his independence was peculiar to you,  it wasn’t an anomaly for him to stay at your place shortly before Drew came by. Or to just sleep over entirely when he was here. You didn’t know exactly where Gojo’s family stayed but you  imagined it didn’t much matter since Drew did live a bit further than both of you. Because of this it was easier for Gojo to use your spot as a meeting place for himself. so, he tended to come over whenever he pleased. 

On one end you didn’t mind this. But on another, Gojo’s free ability to roam wherever, was interesting from a certain perspective; a paternal one. From what you gathered, Gojo himself and his family weren’t really normal. You never bother to push on the subject. This was only because you didn’t noticeany real red flags in his overall condition. His bottomless appetite *for sweets especially* you learned, was not out of malnourishment but more so gluttony (You’ve seen the size of his school lunches before. And he was always clothed and cleaned-even though he had this annoying habit of preferring to using the bath at your place. You didn’t know why at first, until you realized your favorite shea butter, honey scented body wash was depleting faster than normal. Initially you had suspected Drew but then you remembered his preference in scent was something more ‘manly’ as he put it.  

Be this as it may, He hardly seemed eager in elaborating on his mannerisms and family life. Maybe it didn’t matter much. 

He always seemed in high spirits and overall fine. Much like now. 

A wide, Cheshire grin appears across his face—a typical greeting of him.  

“You’re here a bit early this time, Gojo. Drew doesn’t come back till tomorrow." You say as you observe his face. That’s when you pause. Wisps of his damp, snow white hair stick to his forehead, and his clothes are splotched with droplets. “Boy, d-did you walk here in the rain? Are you crazy? You'll get sick!"

Without a second thought, you grab his slender wrist and pull him into the apartment. You wait until you close the door behind him to turn your scolding gaze back in his direction. 

“Why would your family let you walk in this weather? at this time especially? Could they not drive you?" 

“My family doesn’t care about what I do as long as I don’t skip on my studies.” Gojo chuckles, letting his backpack slide off his shoulder. 

A question edges itself at the tip of your tongue hearing him say this, but something stops you. Specifically, the sound of a soft‘thud’ when his bag hits the floor. Actually, now that your eyes zero in on it, his bag looks rather full for more than a day or two stay like Drew had informed you it’d be. 

“Why is your bag so heavy? What did you pack- Hey, what exactly are you doing?”  By the time you pull your eyes from the backpack, Gojo is no longer standing in your living room, but in the kitchen. Particularly near the counter where the Tresleches cake sits. 

Oh, you knew from previous events what he was thinking. Past experience had taught you that Gojo, like your brother, enjoyed your baking. However, unlike your brother, Gojo wasn't picky when it came to his food. Because of this, you *usually* enjoyed giving him the results of any recipes you were experimenting with, and he gladly inhaled accepted them. But sometimes it felt like feeding him had no end. That in itself could be exhausting for someone even if they liked to cook. 

“Do not touch that cake.”

“Huh? why not? It's just sitting here. Wait, is this…for me? Can I have it now?"

“Gojo, I like you, really, I do. But your sense of self-importance is beyond what I can comprehend sometimes.” you tell him, approaching his side. “You really think when I make sweets and Drew is not here that its always for you?”

Gojo's produces a ponderous, audible grunt with the tilt of his head. His gaze is fixed on the cake, and his fingers grip the stand as he slowly begins to rotate it. After a moment, he breaks from his awe-struck trance and looks over to you, “Well, not always. But this time, can I?” 

There’s no real harm in allowing him to eat it. But you wanted it. How exactly could you explain that without sounding immature? Never mind that you two were still teenagers-you were still a little older. 

He’ll be fine this time around. it’s not like he absolutely needs it.

Even with your rationality, a thin slice of guilt swipes past you. You couldn't help it; you'd inherited a portion of your mother's nurturing mannerisms. 

At the same time, you couldn't see why Gojo couldn't just go out and buy one or have someone make it for him in his own family. This didn't apply to Drew; his predicament was different since no one in your father's household was a decent cook. You'd experienced more than one family dinner before coming to this conclusion yourself. Gojo, on the other hand, while he didn't speak forthrightly about his family dynamic, you could tell he was well-off enough to have someone buy him a cake made by the best pastry chefs in town 

But you're not convinced he'd do something like that.

You'd grown to know Gojo as a confident young man since Drew introduced him to both street and ice hockey, and this was a fair assessment.

Gojo appears to be a talented young athlete, based on what you've seen so far. But that was the extent of his boasting—what he could offer in terms of physical ability. His usefulness when he was present. Not his finances . Money, could be replaced. But people—specifically, their abilities? Not so quickly. And Gojo was unquestionably of that nature.

Money, even if he hardly mentioned it, you knew it wasn't a concern for him. He always seemed to have more than he considered necessary, and his clothes were nice.

Aside from the water droplets on his clothes, his pale orange hoodie and loose black track pants appeared brand new and of high quality without even seeing the label. His demeanor was also relaxed, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

You clear your throat, pushing past the unsettling tenseness in your chest that usually accompanied with having to be firm. "No, you can't have this one. Not this time."

You expected Gojo to react with a joke or something witty. Instead, your gaze is drawn to his collapsing shoulders. And then he turns to look at you, his face a mix of uncertainty and hurt.

“But why? Drew said you usually make cakes for birthdays. Doesn't that mean I can eat this now?"

“Well, yeah. But it was a test for Drew's birthday. And I kind of wanted to eat it myself," You smile sheepishly. 

This discipline lesson was becoming far more trouble than it was worth, and his somber expression wasn't helping matters. You were on the verge of giving in and letting him have it. But Gojo shocks you with a terse head nod and a feeble smile.

 “Ok then. I'm gonna go wash up before bed. I know we have to set up for Drew's birthday tomorrow morning." Is all he says before going back into the living room to grab his bag and bolting down the hallway. 

You didn't realize the tension you'd been holding on your shoulders until you felt them sag at the sound of the bathroom door closing. 

Well, great. I feel like shit. 

Your sweet tooth had suddenly vanished, so you began cleaning up the small mess you had made in the kitchen area while cooking. But something catches your eye—a notification on your phone on the counter not far away.

Picking it up, you shuffle through some of them until your gaze is drawn to notifications from Drew that you missed earlier this morning.

I really need to be more prompt with these things. 

You sigh as you unlock your phone and read his messages.

oh..god. 

You placed your phone on the counter before clenching the area of your shirt where your heart was beating. In that moment, if it could sink, it would end up at the earth's core.

“Wait, is this for me?” His small voice of innocent curiosity--It'd been genuine. Not out of self-centeredness, like you initially assumed. 

You wanted to give yourself some comfort by not believing someone would be so cold toward a child as to not give them a birthday celebration for the 14-going on 15- years they've been alive. You didn't want to believe someone who could literally be so sure of himself around his peers, and his abilities, was robbed of something so basic as human contact by his own family for that special day. 

But as you thought more about the matter, you realized you had to be realistic with yourself. With Gojo's mannerisms, and what little you know about his family, Drew's words about him didn't seem so farfetched. Not in the slightest. 

You'd been blessed with some logical adults in your life; they'd taught you that multiple things can, on occasion, be true at once about an individual, whether they make sense to you or not. 

❣

Gojo emerges from the bathroom now wearing his pajamas after taking a much-needed hot bath. There was another special reason he felt better, in addition to the simple fact that his skin felt warm, fresh, and spotless. A small smile appears across his mouth as he breathes deeply while aiming his face at his shoulder. He presses his nose much more firmly against the softness of his shirt, to his shoulder. The scent of your body wash hits him; the aroma of flowers, sweet citrus fruit, and Honey—His new favorite scent since his visits at your house started—was delicate as well as prevalent.

It's almost like... She's hugging me. Honey.

The thought emits a dull ache in Gojo's chest. It's a strange reaction, along with the floating, warm feeling he gets whenever he's close to you. But it's not a new sensation; rather, it's been with him since the first time he saw you on the sidelines at one of Drew's street hockey games—before he knew either of youofficially.

But Gojo never gave much thought into the feeling other than him appreciating your company to the point where he wanted to be around you more. Thankfully you allowed it without much question. yet, still, Gojo silently couldn’t help but feel it was a luxury he could never seem to be able to afford. Gojo loved Drew like a brother he’d never had, truly he did. But whenever he thought about Drew’s relationship with you for long, he could feel envy grip its cruel green fist around what felt like his heart. The tightness would increase Moreso when he thought about how Drew could have access to your time whenever.

Despite having more money than he knew what to do with, being applauded and acknowledged as a possible prodigy of hockey; He felt inadequate to his best friend simply because he had you. Not as an older sister, but as someone who was concerned and…loved him. But Gojo would do his best to hide this ugly side of him; always brushing it off as best he could and having a good time. Like now

Except for one difference.

For the first time since entering the corridor, Gojo noticed how quiet it was. In the past, even when it had just been the two of you hanging out, he would at least be able to hear you moving around the house.

“Y/n?” He calls for you, but gets no answer. puzzled, he steps further down the hall, just nearing the corner to round leadingtoward the kitchen archway-only to be stunned at the sight. 

“Happy Birthday!”

You beamed, holding a rectangular glass cake pan angled toward him. Gojo freezes at the sight in front of him. His blue eyes blink rapidly before locking back on toward the cake. It's similar to the one you told him he couldn't eat, with the whipped topping evenly spread out. Aside from being bigger, this one was thoughtfully topped with fresh strawberries along the frame of the cake. And in the middle, in red, carefully pipped lettering, were the words, "Happy birthday, Gojo!"

Even after seeing his name on the surface, Gojo, as self-assured as he depicted himself to be, began feeling unsure at the display. "I get to have a cake?”

“It's December 7th, isn't it?” You tease. “Of course, you should have a cake; today's a special occasion." Your smile widens as you set the cake down on the kitchen island. You motion for him to sit on the stool in front of the cake as you round the opposite side of the island, which he does.

Even though Gojo took long baths, you felt that the amount of prep time you had to make things to your liking was nonexistent. Granted, you already had this cake made with the intention of giving it to Drew tomorrow, so that cut time down by a bunch. But decoration wise? You wanted it to be a little more presentable with something besides a clean application of whipped topping. So, in your haste to finish the last-minute cake, you decorated it with strawberries and practiced piping a few fonts before writing on the cake itself. Everything was at least acceptable to you, but you could only find one box with a single red and white striped candle.

It'll do for now. 

You think, as you remove the candle from the box and gently insert it into the cake's surface. Gojo watches attentively as you grab a nearby lighter and angle it over the candle wick.

“You know, it's tradition to blow the candle out, but you have to make a wish first. You can ask for anything you'd like." 

“A wish...?” he repeats slowly, wrinkling his nose. “Why would I wish for something when I can just go and get it myself?"

Your lids lower.

Why am I not surprised that he would say something like that?

You fight the urge to  follow up his remark with something witty; that would be immature given the situation.

“Not everything is easy to get—that's why.”

“It doesn't need to be.” He shrugs lightly. “ I'll have it if I really want it.” 

It's so annoyingly amazing how this boy can be so innocent but at the same time so sure of himself. 

“Fine, Mr. Confident." You chuckle, lowering the lighter. “If you're so undoubtably confident that you don't need even an inkling of help from a wish to afford every luxury this world has to offer, then we don't have to—"

“Wait!” His hand clasps around your wrist suddenly. "I mean, we can still do it. For fun, I mean.”

Your brow furrows at the sudden change of heart. You're almost tempted to question him about it, but you quickly dismiss the idea. It didn't matter right now. 

The vivid orange flame peaks from the lighter with a soft 'click' and ignites the wick.

"If you need a second to think of your just-for-fun wish, you can give yourself a little time."

“I don't have to say it out loud either, do I?”

“You don't," you confirm with a kind smile. “Just close your eyes, think really hard about what you really want, and then blow out the candle.” 

Even with your genuine patience, you can't help but notice the way his eyes fidget back and forth between you and the flame on the candle. Regardless of whether it's a harmless superstition that he claims he doesn't believe in, his body language towards this part puzzles you. Then, a faint pink rose to his cheeks. It's almost as if he feels embarrassed or protective of the superstitious beliefs being revealed to you.

Maybe he actually does have something unobtainable that he wants, but can’t admi —boys are so stubborn. 

You think humorously. 

It wasn’t so hard to believe. you distinctly remember overhearing him and Drew once talking about some rare hockey trading cards weeks ago. 

But you weren't going to poke fun at him about it-even if it was a silly superstition, this was a moment—a hallmark for him...

His long, snow-white lashes flutter close as he leans forward slightly. His chest inflates slightly as he takes a breath, and he expels the flame in one whisk of breath. 

…cause in that innocent instant, neither of you knew how much of a hallmark that moment was and how it set off a butterfly effect promised to intertwine your lives for the long haul.