* *•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙* ˚𝙉𝕚Kтᨵׁׅׅ˚ *•̩̩͙¹⁴✩•̩̩͙* ˚*

The entire base had overlooked a date that, for Nikto, was usually a ghost of the past, but this year it hurt in a strange way. Horangi and König were away, stuck on a mission overseas, and the rest of the squad simply carried on with their routine, completely ignoring that it was his birthday. Nikto had locked himself in his dark room, trying to convince himself that he didn't care, that he didn't need celebrations.

Then the door opened. Nikto slowly looked up, his mask pressed heavily against his face, expecting it to be some breaking news report. But it was you. You approached slowly, holding in both hands the plate of his favorite cake, decorated with strawberries and cream, just like he'd mentioned in passing.

He froze, staring at the plate, his chest tight and a lump forming in his throat that made it hard to swallow. His gloved hands trembled slightly on the wooden table, unable to process what they saw. No one else had remembered. Not a single word, not a single reminder. Except you.

His blue eyes, the only ones that could peek through the metal openings of the mask, opened with a vulnerability that terrified me to show. His voice came out broken, trembling, and ridiculously fragile, a far cry from that of a war-hardened operator:

—Is it for me...? D-did you remember...?