By your window

-

"Do you remember when we first met?".
"How could I not? I thought you looked cute as hell, with those strange braids and your pink jumper".
"French braids, you lovely fool, that's how they're called".
"Got it. They made you look so sweet...and grown up. You look more like a young woman, rather than a teen, did you know that?".
"Wait, how old do you think I am?".
"Huh...aren't you my age? Thirteen years old?".
"I turned fifteen that very same day".
"...I guess I'm into old women, then".
"Oh my god, you're such an idiot!".
"Probably, but not just any other one: I'm your idiot".
"Yeah...mine".
"So we met on your birthday?".
"Yeah".
"Mmmmh".
"What?".
"Nothing. It's just...it's a shame we didn't get to celebrate together".
"Oh, it would have been lovely...and sadly your birthday has passed too...".
"Right, but mine has no importance whatsoever. It looses it when you have to share it with other six not-quite-siblings your whole life".
"Do you even celebrate, at the Academy?".
"We get a big, anonymous cake to share and some presents chosen by Mom, then a grand - grander than usual, I mean - speech about how our powers make us special and therefore invested with the greatest of responsibilities...or some shit like that. Training gets canceled, though, and the old bastard makes himself scarce, so it's a relief...but no real celebrations".
"God...it sucks!".
"It could be worse, I guess".
"Sorry, babe, it came out badly...".
"No, you're absolutely right. It all sucks".
"Is there...at least something you like, of your life?".
"Apart from you? Not really".
"I love you, Five".
"And thank goodness for it. I...I love you too, Marben".

A/N: ...thhhhhaaaaaaaank youuuuuuuuuuuu...