Misfits (#2)

7.

I am not built for this. I think it every year.

And like every year he says, "Exercising is always an option if you'd like to get better at that."

I lift my gaze to Azure. And we both grin.

I hurry over to him and hop up onto the large windowsill. I tuck my hair behind my ears and set my present in my lap. Az sets his paperback down, keeping that controlled little smile on his lips.

I raise a hand in the air and then dramatically bow, "Happy birthday, my beloved Azure Alastor Amory."

He takes my hand and kisses it. It's supposed to be theatric but everything Azure does seems like he's meant to do it that way and it works, "Why thank you, dearest sister."

I set the present in his lap and can't help my excited grin, which he raises an eyebrow at. I'm bouncing, "Open it. Now."

He doesn't move.

"Now! Now, now, now-"

"Repeating the same command won't make me more inclined to listen." He says with as much emotion as a bowl of soup, "I like to think me and dogs aren't alike."

"You're both snappy and some believe emotionless." I say. He glares and I smile back sheepishly.

I smile wider when he lifts the present. He holds it for a span of about six seconds before a smile starts to curl at his lips.

I used to get unbelievably annoyed at that. I made him pick the wrapping off with tweezers because with one touch, he'll somehow deduce what it is.

Every year.

When Azure Amory was three, I'd embarked on a wild goose chase around the manor in an attempt to find him before the midnight of his birthday. This is where I had eventually spot him, a book in his lap.

Since he was three, this became our birthday routine. Only ours.

Nobody else in our family wishes each other birthday at midnight but I've always loved the sentiment so I upkeep it secretly every year for Azure. Even when we're supposed to be asleep and await his birthday celebrations the following day.

He made it into his own little game to be at this exact spot in commemoration of our very first midnight birthday. And so as the clock strikes twelve, I run to my youngest brother in his humble abode. The library.

And each year, he opens my present in this windowsill. We're each other's favourites in this house so it's only right we get our very own secret celebration.

His green eyes shine now, "Brontë?"

"Open it." I say and tuck my hands under my thighs.

He looks back down to the awful wrapping and then glances up at me pointedly, "You'd think you'd take up lessons after eleven years."

"Spare me, demon." I narrow my eyes. The wrapping isn't that bad.

I watch in excitement as he starts to unwrap and the rustle of the paper resounds throughout the whole library. The library's gigantic but sitting here, in this tiny corner with our legs crossed, it feels like me and Az create our own little world.

He unveils his present and I gauge his reaction. Very closely. I duck my head, craning my neck side to side because his head's still bowed looking at it. If he hates it, he will outright tell me.

Literally. I hate it. Just like that.

A smile means mission is more than accomplished.