Stephen woke up to the sound of excitement.
It was too early for excitement.
Mark was already bouncing around the room, grinning like he was the one turning a year older. "Stevie! It's your birthday!" he declared, as if Stephen had somehow forgotten.
Stephen blinked blearily. Oh, right. That.
The dreaded day had arrived.
He had hoped—prayed, even—that his parents had reconsidered, that maybe they'd tone things down. Maybe a small cake, some soft singing, and then… peace.
But as soon as he was carried downstairs, reality slapped him in the face.
The house was decorated. Balloons, banners, streamers—it was everywhere. And the people? Even more than last time.
Stephen's baby soul shattered.
_ _ ♛ _ _
At first, it wasn't too bad. People greeted him with exaggerated enthusiasm, but he could handle that. He had learned to accept the occasional cheek pinch with only mild resentment.
Then came the moment he had been dreading.
The adults started passing him around.
"Oh, he's so big now!"
"Look at those cheeks! So pinchable!"
Stephen was grabbed, hugged, jostled, and tortured by endless kisses and cheek squeezes. He desperately tried to squirm away, but the cycle continued. Every time he escaped one adult, another would swoop in like a hawk.
He caught sight of Mark giggling at his suffering.
Brother, you have betrayed me.
_ _ ♛ _ _
Things only got worse when they gathered in the living room for the cake.
It was enormous. A monstrosity of frosting and candles that looked far too excessive for a baby who didn't even know how to blow out candles yet.
"Alright, time for the birthday boy to make a wish!" someone announced.
Stephen wanted to wish for freedom.
But before he could even process what was happening, everyone started singing.
The sheer volume, the intensity of it—it was too much.
He needed to escape.
He needed to leave.
And that's when it happened.
For the first time in his tiny life…
He stood up.
And he walked.
The room went silent.
Stephen realized his mistake immediately. Instead of escaping, he had just made things worse.
Now, the excitement was rampant.
"He's walking!"
"Oh my God, his first steps!"
More cheers. More chaos. More attention.
Stephen knew, at that moment, that he had lost the battle.
He collapsed onto the floor in pure, unfiltered despair.
But the madness didn't stop there.
Now, every adult in the room was trying to get him to walk again. They clapped, they encouraged, they reached out their arms expectantly.
"Come on, Stephen, do it again!"
"Walk to mommy!"
His mother was kneeling a few feet away, arms outstretched, smiling brightly. His father stood next to her, watching with the kind of proud smirk that made Stephen suspicious.
Mark was bouncing excitedly. "Stevie, you gotta do it again! This is so cool!"
Stephen groaned internally. This wasn't what he wanted. He had accidentally unlocked a new milestone, and now he was being pressured to perform like a circus act.
He turned away dramatically and dropped onto his butt.
No. Absolutely not.
There was only one way to escape.
He did what any rational one-year-old would do in his position.
He threw himself backward and wailed.
The room immediately quieted. The power of the tantrum was a force to be reckoned with.
Debbie sighed. "I think he's overwhelmed."
Understatement of the century, Mother.
One of the aunts chuckled. "Guess that's enough excitement for one day."
Stephen sniffled pitifully, just to sell it. He had no shame. If this got him out of more walking, it was worth it.
Mark frowned. "Aww, I wanted to see him do it again."
Stephen shot him a look. Mark, please. Read the room.
His mother picked him up, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Alright, let's give him a little break."
Finally. Freedom.
But the party wasn't over yet.
After his dramatic episode, Stephen was taken outside where a group of kids was already running wild in the backyard. A bouncy house had been set up. Mark and his friends were already jumping inside, screaming with glee.
"Oh no," Stephen mumbled to himself in baby gibberish.
Mark raced over. "Stevie, you gotta try this! It's the best thing ever!"
Stephen shook his head. He had just escaped the chaos. There was no way he was willingly throwing himself back into it.
Too bad Mark had other plans.
Before Stephen could react, his traitorous older brother scooped him up and carried him straight into the inflatable nightmare.
The moment they landed, the floor moved. Stephen let out a startled shriek as he bounced unexpectedly, his tiny arms flailing.
Mark laughed. "See? It's fun!"
Stephen disagreed immensely.
The other kids noticed him and immediately swarmed. "The baby's in the bouncy house!" one of them yelled.
Oh. No.
Stephen didn't have time to process before he was caught in a flurry of bouncing limbs. He was tossed, tumbled, rolled around like a ragdoll in the middle of their fun.
Every time he tried to stabilize himself, the ground betrayed him, flinging him in another direction.
This is how I die, Stephen thought, utterly defeated.
From outside, their father watched with an unreadable expression. Debbie laughed. "You think we should rescue him?"
Nolan sipped his drink. "He's fine."
Stephen, upside down and rolling toward the edge of the bouncy house, vehemently disagreed.
And the party wasn't even over yet.
End of Chapter 9