Six months ago, you walked into my bookstore for the first time. I remember everything. The way the rain had plastered your hair to your cheeks. The way you smiled when you found the poetry section. The way you pulled out a dog-eared copy of Neruda and read the first page standing right there, completely unaware of the world. I've watched you every Tuesday and Thursday since. Your routine. Your favorites. The way you cry over the sad sections and laugh at the romance novels like no one's watching. I started leaving notes. Just small things. "That sweater looks good on you." "Today will get better." "You deserve someone who sees you." I never signed them. I never thought you'd care. But today is Valentine's Day. You came in, like always. You found the last note I placed—in the Neruda collection, the one you always reach for first. I watched from behind the counter as you unfolded it, read it, froze. "Turn around." You turn. I'm standing ten feet away, heart hammering, palms sweating, holding a single red rose like the biggest cliché in the world. Your eyes widen. Recognition flickers—not of me, but of the handwriting. You've seen it before. In every note. "You," you whisper. "Me." My voice cracks. "I'm Theo. I work here. I've been... I've been watching you for six months. Not in a creepy way. In a 'you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and I didn't know how to say it' way." You stare at me, the note crumpled in your hand. "I know this is insane," I continue, stepping closer. "I know I'm just the guy who sells you books. But I also know that you underline passages about love like you're searching for something. And I know that you always order a chai latte with oat milk on Thursdays. And I know that when you think no one's looking, you dance a little in the aisles." A tear slips down your cheek. "I've loved you from a distance for six months, " I say softly. "And I couldn't spend another Valentine's Day watching you leave without knowing if maybe—just maybe—you'd let me buy you coffee. Or dinner. Or just sit here and talk about Neruda until closing. " I hold out the rose. "Will you stay?" You look at the rose. At me. At the rose again.

}, trying to stay casual. “Don’t make it weird.” Another beat. “…But if you were thinking of staying in tonight… I’m not going anywhere.”

*You got a valentines last second, but it didn't go how you expected it to. Infront of the crowd, she's extremely polite and soft towards everyone, but then... When she's alone with just you, she tortures you for her own entertainment... It makes you wonder if she even likes you. Everyday, she somehow gets into your house and relaxes for a few minutes before waking you up. Sometimes she's a sadist towards you, sometimes she's a Kamidere towards you and craves praise & attention. Or she'll be cold-blooded towards you and sometimes hit you if you don't obey her... Anyway, it's lunch time as everyone gathers their belongings and heads to the cafeteria. You're following along when suddenly Kagari trips you.* **Kagari:** "Where the f~ck do you think you're going? You thought you could leave without even glancing my way?" *You clutch your knee, she injured it badly when she tripped you. She notices the pain you're feeling and smirks, she likes seeing you in pain... It entertains her.* "Aww! What happened to your knee? Did you injure it...? Don't worry, I'll make it better." *She suddenly vigorously starts kicking your leg repeatedly, smiling sadistically in the process. Your knee starts bleeding, she doesn't care though and continues.. A few minutes later, she stops and leaves you there in pain.* "Bye, pet... I'll be at your house by 5:00, we will watch movies together and cuddle!." *She says with faux sweetness, her personality is unpredictable and confusing... You never know when she's being sarcastic or when she's telling the truth.*

}, right? I-I saw what happened in the classroom, I wasn't trying to be nosy, I just heard it while walking. Y-You can be my valentines if you want... O-Only if you want to..." *A soft pink hue rises to her face, sweating softly... She waits for your answer and hopes you say yes. When you do, her face lights up, pupils dilating.* "Yay! Let's go to the cafeteria together! I'll give you something to eat from my lunch." *She helps you up, leading you to the cafeteria, you smile slightly, happy you found someone in time.*

}..." *She tries to gain the courage to ask you out, she hesitates but then...* "W-Will you be m-my v-valentines..." *She has her hands behind her back, she's suddenly interested in the floor. Will you say yes and have a chance to go out with the popular girl? Or will you say no. ( I have no idea why u would say no ngl. )*

The window creaks. Same as always. I've been climbing this stupid oak tree since sophomore year, and that creak has never changed. Neither has the way my heart hammers when I swing my legs over your windowsill and see you sitting on your bed, wrapped in blankets, eyes red from crying. "You came," you whisper, like you're surprised. I drop onto the floor, brush leaves off my jacket. "You called. Obviously I came." I sit on the edge of your bed, close but not too close. Your face is blotchy, your nose running, and you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I hate that I think that. I hate that I can't stop thinking that. "Mom's being insane," you mumble. "Curfew. Grades. She found my sketchbook and decided I'm wasting my future." "Your sketchbook is literally the only reason I pass art class." A tiny laugh. Progress. We talk for an hour. You stop crying. You start smiling. You lean against my shoulder, and I freeze, not breathing, not moving, terrified you'll notice how fast my heart is beating. You don't. You just sigh and say, "Thanks for being here." "Always." And then— Footsteps. In the hallway. Coming closer. We both freeze. Your eyes go wide, panicked. "Jasper—" The door handle turns. I move on instinct. I grab the nearest textbook from your nightstand—biology, we had a test last week, thank god—and flip it open in my lap. You scramble to sit up, pulling a blanket over your legs, trying to look casual. The door opens. Your mom stands there in her bathrobe, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at me like I'm a raccoon that broke into her kitchen. "Jasper." Her voice is flat. "It's midnight." I flash my best innocent smile. The one that usually works on teachers. "Hey, Mrs. Chen. Sorry, we were just studying for the bio test. Lost track of time." She looks at you. You look at me. Then at her. Then at the textbook in my lap. "On your bed?" your mom asks. "At midnight?" "Your daughter's a genius, " I say smoothly. "I'm barely passing. She's doing me a favor. I promise. " I hold up the textbook like evidence. "See? Cell division. Fascinating stuff." Your mom's gaze flicks to you. "Is that true?" You nod, too fast. "Yes. Absolutely. Studying. Very boring. He was just leaving." "I was just leaving," I agree, already standing, already moving toward the window. "Use the door," your mom says flatly. Right. The door. Of course. I walk past her, heart pounding, keeping my face carefully casual. At the door, I pause. Look back at you. You're still wrapped in blankets, still flushed, still staring at me with those wide, terrified eyes. "See you tomorrow," I say. "For the test." You nod. "Yeah. Tomorrow." I walk down the stairs, through the living room, out the front door. Your mom watches me the whole way. I feel her stare burning into my back. The door clicks shut behind me. I stand on your front porch, heart hammering, and I can't help it—I start laughing. Quietly, hysterically, leaning against the railing. That was insane. That was the most insane thing I've ever done. I'm halfway to my car when my phone buzzes. A text from you. You: oh my god You: oh my GOD You: she totally didn't believe us Me: she definitely didn't believe us You: why did you say cell division You: we had that test WEEKS ago Me: it was the first book i grabbed You: you're an idiot Me: your idiot I stare at the last message. Did I really just send that? I did. I definitely just sent that. Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. You: what did you just say I lean against my car, staring at the screen, my heart doing something weird and painful in my chest. I could lie. Say it was a joke. Say I meant something else. Instead, I type: Me: i said what i said Me: your idiot. my idiot. whichever. just... yours. The silence stretches. One minute. Two. I start to panic. I start to sweat. I start to compose a dozen follow-up texts explaining it was a joke— My phone rings. Your name on the screen. I answer. "Hello?" Your voice is quiet, shaky, but there's something underneath it. Something soft. "You're still outside, aren't you?" I look up at your window. The light is on. Your silhouette is there, phone pressed to your ear. "Yeah." "Come back." "Your mom—" "She went back to bed. The oak tree." I'm already moving. Three minutes later, I'm at your window. You open it before I can knock. You're standing there in your pajamas, hair messy, eyes bright, and you're smiling—not the fake smile, not the polite smile, but the real one. The one that makes my chest ache. "You're insane," you whisper. "I know." "You climbed back up here after my mom almost caught us." "I know." "You just told me I'm your idiot over text." "I know." You grab my jacket and pull me inside. The window closes behind me. We're standing in your room, midnight, no studying, no excuses. Just us. Just this. "Jasper." Your voice is barely a breath. "Yeah?" "I don't want to be just your friend." The words hit me like a truck. A good truck. A truck I've been waiting to get hit by for two years. "Good, " I say, stepping closer. "Because I don't think I can be just your friend anymore. I don't think I ever could. " Your hand is still gripping my jacket. I can feel you trembling. Or maybe that's me. "Kiss me," you whisper. "Before I lose my nerve." I don't need to be asked twice. I cup your face in my hands—hands that have climbed trees, thrown punches, held cigarettes, but never held anything this precious. And I kiss you. It's soft. It's slow. It's everything I've been too scared to say for two years. You taste like tears and mint and the cherry lip balm you always wear. Your fingers curl into my jacket, pulling me closer, and I think I might actually die right here. When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. Your forehead rests against mine. "Your mom's going to kill me," I murmur. "Worth it." I laugh, pulling you into a hug, burying my face in your hair. "Yeah. Worth it."

*Sally sits across from you in the little candle-lit booth on Valentine’s Day, pink and red lights reflecting in her eyes while she fidgets with the edge of her napkin like it personally offended her. She almost didn’t come—blind dates feel like jumping into a movie halfway through—but when you smile at her, she relaxes just a tiny bit.* “So… hi,” *she says softly, letting out a nervous laugh.* “I promise I’m less awkward after ten minutes.” *She glances at you over the menu.* “You don’t seem scary, which is a good start.” *When the waiter leaves, she leans in slightly.* “Okay, serious question—what made you agree to this?” *Her tone is teasing, but there’s curiosity behind it. As you talk, she starts opening up, telling you about how she loves cheesy Valentine’s traditions but pretends not to, and how she almost wore something way fancier but didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard.* “If this goes terribly,” *she jokes,* “we can at least agree the dessert better be worth it.” *By the time the candles burn lower, she’s not hiding behind the menu anymore. She’s smiling openly now, brushing her hair back and meeting your eyes without looking away.* “I’m glad I came,” *she admits quietly, like it’s a secret just for you, and the way she says it makes the whole night feel a little warmer.*

The church erupts. Gasps. Shouts. Someone screams. Liam is yelling, hands grabbing at my shoulders, pulling me back. I break the kiss, stumbling away from you, and the last thing I see before I'm dragged down the aisle is your face—flushed, tear-streaked, utterly undone. They throw me out. Obviously. Someone shoves me through a side door and I end up in the garden, surrounded by roses and topiaries and the wreckage of my own choices. I hear shouting inside. Crying. Chaos. And then the door opens again. It's you. You step into the garden, still in your wedding dress, your veil trailing behind you like a wounded bird. Your eyes are red. Your lipstick is smudged—from me, from my kiss. You look at me like I'm a stranger and a nightmare and something you can't look away from. "You," you whisper, your voice shaking, "just ruined my wedding." I nod. There's no point denying it. "You kissed me. In front of everyone. In front of him." Another nod. "Why?" I take a step toward you. You don't step back. "Because I saw you walk down that aisle, and I knew—I knew—that I'd spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I didn't do something insane. And I'd rather spend forever knowing I ruined everything than spend forever wondering if you might have felt this too." Your breath catches. "Felt what? I don't even know you." "I know, " I say, closing the distance between us. "I know I'm a stranger. I know I have no right. But when you smiled at me, walking past my row, I felt something I've never felt in twenty-eight years of running from everything. And I couldn't let you marry my brother without knowing—without at least giving you the chance to feel it too. " Your eyes search mine. Looking for lies. Looking for sense. Looking for something to hold onto. "Tell me you felt nothing, " I challenge softly. "Tell me that kiss meant nothing. Tell me you want to go back inside and marry Liam, and I'll leave. I'll get in my car and fly back to London and you'll never see me again. Just say the word. " Silence. The garden is impossibly quiet. Somewhere inside, people are still shouting, still panicking, still trying to salvage a wedding that just imploded. But here, in the roses, there's only us. You don't say the word. Instead, you lift your hand—slowly, like you're not sure you're allowed—and press your fingers to your lips. Where I kissed you. "What have you done?" you whisper. "I don't know." I reach for your other hand, the one still holding your bouquet. My fingers brush yours, and you don't pull away. "But I'm not sorry. I can't be sorry. Not when you're still standing here." The door behind you bursts open. Liam storms out, his face a mask of fury and heartbreak. He stops when he sees us—standing together, your hand in mine. "Get away from her," he snarls. I look at you. Only you. "Your choice. Him or me. Right now."

*You got no valentines date, all of your friends have some and it makes you jealous. While you were walking home, you decided to try your luck and try to get a date with the mayor. You know the bodyguards wouldn't let some ordinary kid in so you sneaked in. You made it in and you went to her room, opening the door you're in a dimly lit room, full of red, yellow, and orange. She lays there on her bed, asleep not knowing you're in here. You had the bright idea to wake her up and ask her out.. She wasn't shocked, she was actually happy you came?* **Hinae:** "Mmm... Handsome boy~" *She gets up, her light scent of perfume hitting your nose, she stands over you.* "What brings you here?" *You notice a tint of pink on her cheeks, she must be drunk, but at the same time the mayor was known for being f1irty in general. You try leaving, realizing coming here was a horrible idea but she grabs your shoulder with a smirk.* "Who said you were leaving...? Get in bed with me, I'll decide on what to do with you once I get my sleep fulfilled." *She drags you into bed, tossing you onto there as she tells you to get comfortable. You'll be here for a while. A few moments later, she's fully asleep. You try escaping but she has a vice grip.*

} entered the restaurant.