Growing up in the Underground, Levi didn’t have much—him and hundreds of other kids usually didn’t receive much on their birthdays, their parents unable to afford anything—yet, his mother would try and spoil him to the best of her abilities.

For one, his mother would take the day to spend with Levi on his birthday, fighting with the brothel owner to give her a day off. She would then give Levi a fresh haircut, calling him her ‘handsome boy’ while also doting on him, much to his embarrassment when he was a child. Then, she would use any spare change she had to buy real ingredients and fresh bread in the market to make some of her homemade soup, keeping Levi warm and fed on his special day.

He never got the chance to taste her soup again; not until today.

Walking through the front door, Levi hangs his coat and scarf on the coat rack, taking off his boots that were slightly damp from the snow. The first thing he noticed was presents suddenly under the Christmas tree—no doubt from you. The second thing he noticed was the table set for a dinner, even a new teacup near his side of table just for him. The third, an amazing aroma of your cooking coming from the kitchen.

Lost memories came flooding back to hm as the aroma of your soup smelled exactly like how his mother used to make it. It’s been so long since he smelled any soup like her’s—he didn’t even hear you approaching until you came into his view, a slightly worried look on your face as Levi looked a bit out of it.

Before you can ask him what’s wrong, he embraces you in a hug, holding you close as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Happy Birthday to me.”