Future Ghosts • TWD

165. Happy Birthday.

"Hey," a soft voice said beside Rosie's ear. She squirmed, burying her face in her pillow and ignoring the voice. "Rosie, hey," the voice continued. She felt a hand on her back, lightly shaking her awake. She uncovered her face, letting her eyes pry themselves open to see. Her vision was blurry with whatever gunk accumulated in her eyes as she slept. She rubbed them clean with the inside of her arm. "You know what today is?" the person asked.

In between her long and slow blinks, Rosie could see Fraser's face above hers. He sat at the edge of her bed, his hand tucking her hair away from her eyes. She knew what day today was. "Monday," she answered simply, her voice groggy.

Mondays were bittersweet. She got to leave home for a whole seven hours, but that also meant she had to be at school for a whole seven hours.

"Well, yeah, but what day is today?" Fraser asked as Rosie sat up in her bed.

She furrowed her eyebrows, frowning with confusion. "Monday," she said again.

Fraser let out a soft laugh. "Jeez, Rosie. What day of the month?" he asked, a smile on his face.

"How the hell am I s'posed to know?" Rosie huffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

Holding back a laugh at that, Fraser shook his head. "Watch your mouth," he said.

"You say it," Rosie argued, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, but I'm fifteen. You're five."

Rosie's eyes narrowed. "I ain't five. I'm four," she corrected. Fraser gave her a look that had some sort of meaning to it, but Rosie wasn't sure what it was. She stared blankly for a moment. What is today? What is today? Her eyes widened and her face lightened up. "It's my birthday!" she exclaimed, her smile wide.

"Finally," Fraser huffed. It only took her about a million years to realize it. Rosie's smile only grew the more she thought about it. She liked being an odd number age more than she liked being an even number age. She wasn't sure why. It just felt better. "What d'you want for breakfast?" he asked.

"I want M-"

Before Rosie could finish her sentence, Fraser interrupted her. "Wait, lemme guess," he said, holding a hand out. Rosie tapped her hands against her knees, teeming with excitement. "McDonald's hotcakes?" he guessed, already knowing that was what she wanted.

"Yes, please," Rosie said with a nod, bubbling with joy.

"Well, then, you gotta hurry up and get dressed so we can get there before they stop servin' breakfast," Fraser told her, scooping her up off of her bed and holding her on his hip.

Rosie wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his shoulder. "Thank you," she muttered, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Fraser kissed the top of her head. "Happy birthday, Rosie," he said, walking over to her closet. He pulled the door open, revealing the sparse amount of shirts hung up inside. Rosie lifted her head again, letting her eyes scan over the shirts. "Which one's your favorite?" Fraser asked. Rosie pointed to her baseball jersey. Fraser's eyebrows raised. "Really? That one?"

"Yeah. I like it," Rosie told him.

"A'right, then," Fraser said, pulling the jersey off of the hanger. He placed Rosie back on the ground and handed her the shirt. She didn't need help picking out anything rest. She just couldn't reach the hangers in her closet. "Go ahead and get dressed. I'mma go get some money," Fraser said, disguising the anxiety he felt in his gut with a look of excitement.

He slipped out of the bedroom and down the hall to where his father's bedroom was. The door was closed and the lights were still off. David was still asleep. Thank God. Fraser continued down the hall and walked as silently as he could into the kitchen. He looked around the room.