Only something so completely unexpected could have shocked Kyle out of his sullen mood, as swiftly as it had come and gone. He couldn't rationalize why it bothered him that she wanted something from him he couldn't give her, but before he could even get comfortable in his sulking, they had moved on from the subject. If she wanted to press him, she didn't, and Kyle couldn't immediately sense whether the lingering discomfort was solely his or shared between them as she fell in step behind him. Natural, almost as if they'd done this together before.
Because tomorrow's my birthday. That was the first shock to his system, an unexpected admission from her that didn't necessarily have to be personal, but for her it clearly was. Or the confession of it at least, marked by a resignation she didn't bother to try and hide from him. The second shock was more of a delayed reaction than anything else, a reminder of something some part of him always knew but rarely if ever acknowledged openly, even to himself. Tomorrow was his as well.
How could this be? Did the dyad really extend this far into the shaping of their lives, both together and apart? Or was coincidence even a possibility to consider at this point? When his parents had been alive, of course the day had been celebrated, even in some small way. Since their deaths, Kyle barely remembered it except for in passing, typically at some point during the day in question, if at all. He saw no reason to entertain it, and he wasn't even sure there was a person still alive anymore who actually knew the date of his birth other than him.
The inexplicable loneliness that sparked from such a notion Kyle immediately pushed aside.
She loathed it, that was clear, and part of Kyle wanted to know why for no other reason than to know something else about her. The vulnerability in her words called to him. Birthdays had become almost more of an embarrassment that he'd prefer to ignore than anything else, certainly something to detest on principle, but it wasn't strictly speaking personal for him. Her fierce desire to avoid the day felt personal.
Kyle didn't know what it meant that they shared the same birthday, but after the shock subsided, the rest of him relaxed into it, infinitely more comfortable inside the persisting enigma of their bond than the unfamiliar social custom they were presently engaging in. He had only paused in his steps for a moment before following after her into the aisle and watched her closely while her gaze was trained mostly on the path in front of them. The urge to confess was alarmingly strong in him.
"You hate it," he observed after a pause, wondering what possible reason she had to hate the day she was born so much. Assuming it had to do with the loss of her family was a safe assumption. Was that it? Or was it something else? The not knowing burned a hole into the center of him.
Matching pace with her easily, Kyle looked thoughtfully at the shelves to his right before he spoke, reaching out to trace a finger along the spine of a book that caught his eye due to the deep red color of its exterior. "I rarely think of mine, but I suppose I don't much care for it either."