It Will Be Better (Eddsworld X Child!Reader)

21.) Belated Happy Birthday, (Y/N)

     (A/N: I tried to not go too overboard on describing what day of the week this takes place on, as I wanted this chapter to be as inclusive as possible for everyone. Anyway, just thought I'd mention this. Happy reading!)

     (A month or so later:)

     Matt pulled Ringo up to his chest, unhooking the cat's leash and collar as he set her down onto the floor. She shook out her fur and padded further into the living room, before Matt shut the front door, walking close behind her. As he followed, he carefully stuffed the items into one of his overcoat's pockets and watched as Ringo took a bounding leap onto your lap. The cat's tail was swishing contentedly, as if she were glad to be back home. The ginger had walked in on a normal evening spent with your "caregivers." They all, of course, had their own things that they usually did, but you could always count on at least one of them to follow up any given day with you.

     It just so happened that Tom, and Matt apparently, had the time tonight. The more the merrier, you had decided.

     "I'm back!" Matt trilled, taking his own seat on the couch beside Tom, "Ringo was a little angel, as usual."

     The cat lazed on her belly, her back exposed as you carefully smoothed a hand through her fur. You could feel the vibrations that her joyful purrs sent up your hand and you let out a tiny laugh. Matt leaned forward from his place on the couch, his hair still sticking up as he cocked his head, and flashed you a small smile in greeting. You grinned back, the response almost automatic at this point. Mostly because you'd been hanging around his eccentric personality for so long.

     Tom chuckled, a book gripped tightly in his hands, "I still can't believe she behaves that well on a leash. Especially with you of all people, Matt."

     The ginger frowned, as he pulled his head back up, striking a sudden pose. He stuck a hand into another one of his overcoat's pockets and dug around. Retrieving his purple mirror from its depths, holding it up to his face.

     He stared into its reflective glass, thoroughly gazing at himself, "I must have a gift."

     The blue-hooded man rolled his eyes as he let out a quiet scoff, setting his book down on his lap, and rubbed at his voids. He leaned further into the plushness of the couch. When he finally opened his "eyes" again, his gaze lingered on your figure. Tom had an eyebrow raised, expecting you to butt into the conversation. Although, you didn't really know what to say and shrugged your shoulders in response. Besides, you'd rather see where this conversation headed and if you had to intervene, then, well, you would. As best as you could for being a ten-year-old, at least. Or, no. As an eleven-year-old. A sudden frown crossed your face as you thought about everything. You hadn't really gotten around to telling them about your birthday passing. Well, there was always today. Or, tomorrow. Or, even next week.

     As you continued to mull over your own thoughts, Tom's voids scanned your face for a few seconds longer.

     Though, he eventually averted his gaze and let out a small sigh, turning his head to look back at his roommate, "Those "good looks" of yours won't last forever, Matt."

     An abrupt, quiet chuckle startled you all, even managing to pull you out of your thoughts, as Tord made his way down the stairs, "Actually, technically they could, in a way."

     The Norwegian took a seat next to you, his signature, toothy smirk plastered on his face. His hands were laid down at his sides, but upon further inspection, the fingertips seemed to be covered in smeared, black ink. Almost as if he had been writing something, but halfway through, he'd smeared the page. Still, that didn't seem like a good enough explanation as to why it looked like he'd dipped them directly into the ink container.