(Me too! Alright, here we go :)
“AYDIN! HUMAN!” a voice called from the top of the stairs. There he was— Ziggy— standing at the top with three children’s books wrapped in his arms. One was flipped open to a page that just had ‘Birthdays!’ written on the top in elegant lettering.
As he walked down the stairs, tail swaying behind, Zig continued.
“What is this birthday these texts speak of?” he asked, voice genuinely confused. He hadn’t pried his eyes from the books, so it was surprising he hadn’t tripped when walking down the stairs.
“Is it the day of your hatching? Fletching day? It says here you all gather around and begin to chant,” he mumbled, skimming the book with a finger. “In my Humans 101 pamphlet, it said you usually light a sugary pastry on fire and make wishes. Do those actually come true? And what does the chanting do? Is this some kind of otherworldly ritual? I am confused.”
Aydin was nursing a cup of coffee at the counter, scrolling through their phone when Ziggy walked down the stairs. They looked up at him and took a quick slug of their coffee before setting it down. "Aight, come here and I'll explain birthdays to you." They patted the chair that was next to their wheelchair as they turned their phone off and prepared to explain birthdays at an alien. "Alright, so I suppose the first one is kinda like 'the day of our hatching'. We're born on that day, we kinda get squeezed out of our mum's belly. That only happens during the first birthday though. After that, every year on the same day we were born, we have a celebration. We make a cake and often put candles ontop, we then light the candles on fire. Then we sing a silly song, it's not a ritual don't worry."
Ziggy, the entire time they were explaining, kept his eyes at a confused squint and left their tail twitching behind them. After sitting down, he had rested his head atop two of his hands, using the others to gesture.
“So… you don’t hatch every year? Or be birthed?” he mumbled, the expression on his face nothing short of attempting to understand witchcraft. “Then why would you celebrate that? You are already here. It does not make sense.”
Zig tapped a few fingers on his leg, continuing.
“And it’s not a ritual.. got it,” he murmured. “So, does that mean I am allowed to take place in it? May I join your day of birth celebration?”
With that Ziggy looked up with a large smile, as if he had just made a giant scientific breakthrough.
Aydin hummed, they hadn't ever thought about why you celebrated birthdays. "I think we celebrate it to celebrate another year we're alive." They gave a soft smile. "Of course you can. I don't usually do a big celebration though, it's usually just me and some friends. We'll drink some wine or something and eat cake."
“Cake! Yes! That was the name of the pastry,” Ziggy said happily. “Thank you, Aydin! And yes, I will make sure to attend your ritua— birthday. Your birthday, the next time it comes.”
Zig took his tail into his two lower hands, beginning to fiddle with it slightly. He looked back up to Aydin timidly, cocking his head.
“But… what is wine?” he asked.
Ziggy had only recently figured out what alcohol was, and that experience wasn’t something he ever wanted to try again. If drinking alcohol meant waking up not knowing what year it was or where you were— or who you were— Ziggy opted to steer clear from it.
Aydin snorted, having to take a breath to calm themselves down. "You remember vodka, right? It's like that, but fancier." Aydin themselves would never forget the Vodka Incident. To be fair, it was mostly their fault. They had invited a friend over who, once he had heard that Ziggy had never drank, brought the strongest booze he could find.
“Vodka. That’s the name. It scares me,” Ziggy said with a slight shake. His closed his eyes, taking a breath. “The devil’s juice, I swear.”
He looked over to Aydin, offering them a curious smile.
“But it’s fancier? Like… tuxedo vodka? That seems more fun,” he said happily. “I’ve always wanted to try a tuxedo on. Unfortunately, there always seems to be a problem fitting them.”
Aydin nodded, their smile not budging. "It also has less of a chance of getting you drunk, I'm pretty sure. I don't actually drink a lot." They hummed, picking up their coffee and finishing the rest of it. "We could find a tailor to fix a tuxedo to fit you."
“A tailor?” he asked, looking over to them. “Is that the woman I saw on your television the other day? Taylor? I didn’t know being Taylor was an occupation. She does sing, though, so I’m almost positive that’s an occupation.”
He then took a full few seconds, and his brain clicked the pieces together.
“Wait. A tailor. Those people who make suites. Never mind, that makes much more sense. We could get me a custom suit? My, wouldn’t that be something.”
Aydin chuckled as they made their way to the sink, washing out their cup. "Yeah bud, Taylor swift is definitely not a tailor, she's a singer. Er- Artist? I mean, I think she writes her own lyrics so she's a singer song writer." They narrowed their eyes. "I think most people just call her a singer."
