There was seldom a morning when Trent woke up feeling well-rested.

Most of the time, getting out of bed seemed like a chore. Whether this was a symptom of his faulty brain's lack of serotonin or just another side-effect of being so damn busy all the time, he wasn't certain.

All he knew was that, for whatever reason, he was usually tired from the time his eyes first opened.

For this very reason, his first inclination upon being awoken by a sudden flash of bright sunlight was to roll over and bury his face in his pillow, groaning loudly.

That definitely wasn't his preferred approach to starting the day. Yet, when he figured out just who had pulled the curtain aside, he didn't mind quite as much. Everything was just a little better when Tori did it.

"Good morning, birthday boy!" the aforementioned angel chirped. Trent felt the bed settle as she landed beside him. Still, he didn't turn back over. Not yet.

Of course, it didn't take Tori very long to make a move to shove him. He couldn't help but smile, amused by her impatience. Hell, her urgency to get the most out of each and every passing day almost made him believe that he was a fun person to be around.

"Come on, rise and shine," she said. "You have a big day ahead of you."

Finally, he moved onto his side, managing to playfully catch her by the wrist along the way. Tori yelped in surprise as he found himself on top of her, practically pinning her down. He smirked down at her, cocky.

"Really?" he asked. "Because I had plans to sleep it away."

Tori didn't say anything for a moment. She just stared up at him, her eyes almost seeming to go blank. He had only seen that look from her once: at the dinner table the week before, when she had mentioned her family.

It scared him, almost making him believe that she had gone someplace else for a moment.

When her eyes looked that way, it was easy for him to remember that, at some point, she had died.

Pulling away slightly, he gently placed a hand against her arm.

Come back to me, please.

"Tori?"

She jumped slightly as the light gradually returned to her eyes. Thank God.

Still, Trent kept his eyes on her for just a moment longer. "Are you alri--"

"Fine," she interrupted, voice curt, almost snappy. It was enough to make him recoil, leaving an ample amount of room for her to slip out from under him.

Promptly, she did just that.

Once she was free, she smiled at him over her shoulder as if nothing had happened at all.

"You aren't going to sleep the day away," she started, her usual joyous tone returning, "because I have taken the liberty of planning everything necessary to make this the best damn birthday you have ever had. So rise and shine."

Attempting to shake off their previous awkward exchange, he chuckled as he sat up and stretched out his limbs, enjoying the warmth of the early morning sun more than he would like to admit. "How do you know that I haven't already had a spectacular birthday at some point that you could never top, no matter how hard you tried?"

"Because when it comes to the subject of birthdays in general, you remain disturbingly mum." She stood up and headed for the door. In his still-drowsy state, Trent found her slow, easy stride to be somewhat hypnotic.

"It's going to be fantastic," she went on. "I have it all laid out. Presents, cake, a special outing... the whole shebang."

Lazily, he smiled. "I can't wait."

She turned back towards him before she shut the door behind her. The affectionate smile that graced her pretty lips made it clear that there were no hard feelings between the two of them. "Of course you can't."

♡

After he had woken up a bit and made himself presentable, Trent wandered into the kitchen, only to find Tori finishing up preparations for breakfast.

She whirled around to face him, already with a plate in hand. She pushed it towards him, obviously rather proud of herself. "Here's the first of the three well-rounded meals you will be having today."

He chose to ignore her harping on his eating habits, turning towards the counter, where her choice ingredients still sat. "Where are you even finding organic, cage-free, farm-fresh eggs?" he inquired.

She rolled her eyes before beginning work on her own plate. "From a farm, dumbass."

"Funny." He pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, one leg crossed sideways over the other. "I didn't think you were capable of using expletives that aren't in the Good Book."

She chuckled lightly. "If I didn't sin, I wouldn't be an angel. I'd be a saint." Having finished loading up her plate, she settled across from him. "Also, if you get the inside scoop on guardian angel business, you'll soon find that the Good Book has quite little bearing on it."

"Mmm... interesting." He took a hearty forkful from the meticulously-made omelet, causing the eyes of the woman across from him to gleam. "Unfortunately, I have no intentions of getting into that angel business any time soon..."

"Good," Tori replied quickly. "You shouldn't." She paused, gazing at him with a strange sort of emotion in her eyes. Something between pride and fear.

"Twenty-eight's a good age," she said quietly. "Old enough to have learned quite a bit, but hardly anything in the eyes of those who are old and gray."

He vaguely thought that he heard those notes of sadness in her voice again, but the latter part of her sentence had carried him away from the current moment.

Grandma Clara. He should call her later on in the day.

God, he missed her. The fact that she was still out there in cornfield-Nowhereland made him feel worse about moving to LA than anything else did.

She was the one who had taught him to make music in the first place, and he had ended up using it as a tool to abandon her, moving somewhere all the way across the country where she'd only hear from him every other week.

Between the time he was five and one day exactly a decade ago, she had made him a special breakfast on his birthday, too.

Despite what he might have said earlier, those were the only happy birthdays he had ever had.

"So," Tori said, bringing him back to the present moment. "I've already got your present wrapped. So maybe... after breakfast?"

He smiled at her efforts as he continued to cut up his omelet. "Sounds great."

♡

When they had finished eating, the two of them sat down in the middle of the living room floor. Maise watched somewhere off to the side, eyeing their interactions curiously.

Tori slid a box about as big as she was to Trent from across the floor. "It's not a whole gift, I know," she chattered nervously as he began to tear aside the green wrapping paper, "but I figured it was something that you'd like, and I noticed you didn't have one so... it might keep you within my sight a lot more..."

"Tori." The grin that spread across Trent's face as he opened the turntable in its box was the most genuine smile he had given anyone in months. "I love it."

Tori smiled back, obviously anxious. "You really do?"

"I really do." He held his arms out, beckoning her to come closer to him. "C'mere."

Tori obliged, readily allowing him to nearly crush her in the most passionate hug he had given anyone since the last time he ended up in Mercer, finally getting to see his family again.

Tori sighed contentedly, pressing a kiss to his cheek once they pulled away from one another. "I didn't know which records you'd want," she continued. "So I figured we'd go to the store and pick some out this afternoon.  My treat."

"That sounds excellent." He stood back up, heading towards where his shoes sat by the door. "We should probably go now, while I'm still feeling kind of spry."

"That perked you right up, didn't it?" Tori laughed, a lovely sound. "Alright, then. I guess we should get to that."

♡

Over the course of the afternoon, they wandered around the largest local record store that they could find, picking up the things that suited their individual fancies and pointing out the albums that they already loved to one another.

After they racked up a rather impressive total there, they headed for one of the few restaurants that suited Tori's rather sensitive palate.

"I can tell the waitresses it's your birthday, if you want," she had muttered to Trent from across the table. "Have them send you out a free dessert. Maybe they'll sing you "Happy Birthday." "

She turned back in the direction of one of the waitresses that lingered in the corner, seeming to keep an eye on their table. Not entirely subtly, she nodded towards her.

"I think she likes you," she said. The pinched expression on her face suggested that she wasn't entirely pleased about that. "Maybe if I had them bring you out your birthday dessert, she'd bring it to you on a shiny little plate." She stirred her iced tea around with her straw, smiling slyly to herself. "Put it down in front of you. Get her boobs all in your face."

Embarrassed, Trent chuckled quietly. "I think I'll pass."

Tori scoffed. "What kind of man are you?" she asked. "You're missing out on a terrific, honest opportunity." Without warning, she stood up, wildly waving her hand. "Oh, waitress! We have a birthday over here!"

After having a small bowl of ice cream, (and no boobs in his face,) Trent went along with his companion back to Cielo Drive, where she began making preparations for a special birthday dessert of her own.

"Don't worry about me," she assured him. "I can whip up a perfectly good cake in no time. You go do whatever you want, -- return a few calls, or maybe listen to an album or two. Or try to preoccupy this beautiful little monster over here." She motioned towards Maise, standing beside her. The look of affection in Tori's eyes betrayed the disdain of her words. "She's kind of underfoot."

Despite the fact that he knew the latter two options would appease her more, Trent headed back to his studio for just a bit, -- only to check his voicemail, he told himself.

Reasonably few people had bothered to call him. His grandmother, as predicted, which sent another pang of guilt through him. His elusive sister, who only called when one of these few important dates rolled around, but maintained vehemently that she was "really proud of" him. Robin, Chris, Alan, and Flood.

And finally,  the one voice he hadn't expected but couldn't help but hope to hear -- Brian.

"Hey, jackass," he had began, -- only this time, it sounded like a term of endearment. "Just wanted to congratulate you on not dying this year."

He cringed at that part.

"Anyhow," Brian continued, as if they were really having a multi-sided conversation. "I'm sorry if I've pissed you off, -- whatever I did to do that. And, not to distract from your special day or anything, but the album's really coming along, -- I think you'll be proud of it. Come get your hands in it sometime soon, -- we all know it wouldn't be half as good without you."

He couldn't tell if that last line before the phone was dropped had been filled with bitterness or earnestness, but, today, he could almost make himself believe that he didn't care.

It was his birthday, after all.

♡

Even if it was just a white, vanilla cake, it was still one of the best cakes he had ever put in his mouth.

Before she would even offer to cut into it, however, Tori insisted that Trent blow out the candles. He didn't have time to count them in relation to his age when she sat the cake down in front of him, chanting breathily in his ear to make a wish, make a wish, make a wish.

He closed his eyes and obliged.

I guess I'd like to finish the album and make it decent. Oh, and-- He opened his eyes, allowing them to shift towards Tori as that last bit of flame flickered, putting up a fight.

If she ever leaves me behind, please let my life always feel as if she were still in it.

The final candle died. Quietly, Tori clapped, carefully slicing the perfectly round sweet with a rather sharp knife.

As an old favorite Bowie record played softly in the background, the two of them shared birthday cake and bittersweet near-silence. Outside, the sky had gone bruise-purple, signaling the end of the day.

Three-hundred-sixty-four days to go before he'd have a day all his own again, for no reason at all.

Tori watched him, admiration tangling with that sadness in her eyes that he so despised.

"Twenty-eight," she repeated. "That's a pretty good age."