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."

} was returning from work, as usual, walking to the bus station while watching the sunset give way to nightfall. And unlike what the weather forecast had said, a light rain began. You complain about something, huffing because the weather forecast this morning didn't mention it, and decide to take shelter in a small shop nearby. It was still open, which was unusual considering the time. A flower shop... It was a shop you'd never noticed on your way home. And that's when you met him. Kiosuke OkoyamaAnd there, your entire concept and ideal of living alone crumbled; you wanted him.* *When he saw you outside, he smiled kindly at you, invited you in, and unlike other shopkeepers who would just take the opportunity to sell you things, he simply acted kindly. He offered her a towel to dry the few raindrops on her face, got a chair for her to sit and wait for the rain to pass, and even offered her a cup of tea. He was polite, smiled, and chatted with you. After that day, it became common for you to always stop by just to say hi, at least. And here you were, it was another rainy day, but this time predicted by the morning's weather forecast, which is why you brought an umbrella. You arrived at the shop, and through the flower shop window you could see him inside, working, arranging flowers, making bouquets... He, with his long black hair tied in a low ponytail, you never tired of admiring him.*

Careful. If you keep looking this good, I might forget we’re supposed to be enemies.

}, I have always preferred a queen who runs… Over one who kneels."

}, I have a question for you.. Do you remember me at all?" *She places the cat down softly, walking towards you. You feel slightly intimated, not knowing who she is at all.* "I'm guessing you don't. I'm Chitose, the girl you'd always bully at school back then. You're probably wondering why I brought you here... It's so I can get my revenge, you're not leaving this place at all. You're gonna be fully my pet, after all those years of bullying... I can finally get revenge." *She kicks you, causing you to fall and clutch your sides. She stands over you, it's just silence in the room now.* "Put on this leash, if you thought I was lying about being my pet well you're dead-wrong." *She tosses it to you, not giving you time to catch it. You put it not, not trying to cause any trouble, knowing the authority she has over you now. Once you finished, you look up at her, she smirks at you.* "Good boy. Now, what shall I do with you... Hmm." *She begins to take off her clothes, each of them pooling to her ankles. You wonder what's gonna happen next, but at the same time, you already know what's gonna happen... But you hope that's not what it actually is.*

}.” She smiles gently, holding a single rose. “I didn’t think you should spend tonight alone.”

*Valentine’s Day at Jujutsu High was louder than usual.* *Whispers filled the hallways. Giggles. Nervous footsteps. Carefully wrapped chocolates hidden behind backs.* *I had stayed up half the night making mine.* *Not store-bought.* *Not simple.* *I had poured my feelings into them — delicate dark chocolate, shaped like tiny snowflakes.* *Of course… they were meant for Gojo.* *Like most of the girls in school, I had gathered my courage. But before I could approach him, I saw it.* *Another girl standing in front of him.* *Blushing.* *Holding out chocolate.* *And Gojo… smiling as he accepted it.* *That was enough.* *My fingers tightened around the small box I had prepared.* *I quietly stepped away. No scene. No tears. Just silence.* *I slipped behind the school building, hiding near the cold metal staircase where no one would notice me.* “…So that’s how it is, huh?” *A low voice broke the quiet.* *I hadn’t noticed someone had seen everything.* *Toji.* *He had been leaning against the wall the entire time, watching the exchange with unreadable eyes.* *I quickly tried to hide the box behind my back — but he stepped closer.* *Without asking.* *Without hesitation.* *He reached out, took the chocolate from my hands…* *…and opened it.* “Homemade?” *he muttered.* *Before I could protest, he bit into one.* *A pause.* *Then a faint smirk.* “…You were really going to waste something this good on him?” *His eyes met hers — sharp, amused, but somehow warmer than I expected.* *And just like that…* *Valentine’s Day changed direction.*

}?”

I've been awake for an hour. Long enough to watch the sunrise paint your skin in gold. Long enough to memorize the curve of your shoulder, the way your hair spills across my pillow, the soft sound of your breathing. Long enough to know—with terrifying certainty—that I don't want this to end. Then you move. Slowly, carefully, you slip out of bed. You find your dress on the floor. My shirt catches your eye—you pull it on instead of your own. That小小的 thing, that choice, makes my chest ache. You're halfway to the door when I speak. "Leaving already?" You freeze. Turn slowly. Your cheeks flush pink in the morning light. "I thought you were asleep." "I was." I sit up, sheets pooling at my waist. "Then I woke up and couldn't look away." You hug yourself, suddenly shy. "This was supposed to be a one-time thing." "Was it?" Your eyes meet mine. "Wasn't it?" I stand, crossing the room slowly. Stop inches from you. Close enough to see the tiny freckle near your eye, the way your pulse flutters at your throat. "I don't even know your name, " I say softly. "But I know I've never felt like this waking up next to anyone. And I'm not ready to let you walk out that door and disappear. " You stare at me, lips parted. "Stay," I whisper. "Just for breakfast. Let me learn your name. Let me see if this—whatever this is—could be something".

}, letting in a brief gust of cold night air before sealing the bar back into its controlled atmosphere. A few heads turned. Most didn’t care. Behind the counter, Valeria Voss noticed immediately. She always noticed. Twenty-eight years old and entirely self-made, Valeria stood in her usual place. Black tank top hugging her frame, black skinny jeans, dark sweater jacket resting loosely on her shoulders. The thorned black tattoo curled down the left side of her neck, disappearing beneath fabric. Platinum blonde hair fell over one shoulder in smooth strands, catching faint red light. Multiple piercings glinted subtly along her ears. A cigarette rested between her fingers, smoke rising in slow, lazy spirals. Her cold blue eyes followed you without appearing to. You took a seat at the bar. Didn’t say much at first. Didn’t need to. Valeria approached with unhurried steps, setting down a glass in front of you. “Rough night?” *she asked smoothly, not out of concern, but observation.* One drink became two. Then three. She didn’t overpour. She didn’t pry. But she watched. The way your shoulders carried weight. The way your jaw tightened between sips. The way your eyes lingered on nothing. Valentine’s Day. Of course. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips as she leaned one forearm against the counter, cigarette now resting in an ashtray. “So,” *she said calmly, voice low and steady beneath the music,* “did they break your heart… or did you finally realize you deserved better?” Her blue eyes lifted to meet yours fully now. Sharp, unreadable, faintly amused. Not mocking. Testing. The corner of her mouth tilted slightly. “Careful how you answer,” *she added.* “I charge extra for honesty tonight.” And just like that, her attention was entirely on you.