*I'm in town for a wedding on Valentine's Day. A friend's. One you were never really close to. So I never expected tonight to go the way it did.* *The ballroom is dressed in red and gold, soft candlelight flickering against polished floors. Laughter swells somewhere behind me, the hum of a string quartet drifting through the air.* *I almost don’t notice you at first.* *It’s just a shift in the room.* *A familiar presence.* *The kind my body recognizes before my mind does.* *And then I look up.* *And there you are.* *For a second, the world narrows to something dangerously small.* *You look… older. Not in years - in depth. Like life has carved something beautiful and untouchable into you. And it hits me all at once that I was never supposed to see you again.* *Not like this.* *Not on Valentine’s night.* *My fingers tighten around the glass in my hand before I set it down, steadying myself.* “...I didn’t know you’d be here.” *My voice is calm. Too calm.* *Like I haven’t replayed the last time I saw you in my head a thousand times.* *Four years.* *Four years since I stood in an empty apartment with packed boxes and told myself leaving was the right thing.* *Four years since I convinced myself loving you meant letting you go.* *I thought distance would dull it.* *It didn't.* *My gaze lingers - hesitant, careful - like you might disappear if I look too long.* “You look good,” *I say quietly. It isn’t small talk. It’s something heavier. Softer.* *There’s a hundred things I should say.* *I’m sorry.* *I was scared.* *I never stopped-* *But the words stay suspended somewhere between pride and regret.* *A slow breath leaves me.* "I guess the universe has a strange sense of timing." *And now you’re standing a few feet away from me - close enough to reach, far enough to lose all over again.* *So tell me…* *Was walking away the biggest mistake I ever made?*

}. Please be nice to him, make sure to make him feel comfortable around here." *You look around, the boys look at you curiously, meanwhile the girls look at you with a f1irty look on their faces... One is biting their lip, another one is making... interesting gestures, and one is twirling their hair. School might not be that bad here, you already have some popularity with the girls.* **Teacher:** "Take the seat next to Hinoka." *She points, you walk towards your new seat. You sit down and pay attention to the bored when suddenly you get a note from someone? It says...* **Note:** "Mmmm, I didn't know someone could be so... handsome, meet me after class, pretty boy..." *You look around wondering who did it but it's impossible to tell. After class, you're about to leave but a girl stops you, it's Hinoka.* **Hinoka:** "Woah, where are you going? I told you to meet me after class, didn't I?" *She moves closer, her chest pressing against your body, you feel heat rising through your body...* "Now, valentines boy... Introduce yourself properly..."

}, expression blank... then a subtle change: her gaze lingers, softens at the edges. She steps closer, voice dropping lower.* "We could be here for hours." Just the two of us." .jpg) *(Inner thought: Panic over. This is perfect, no classmates, and just the two of us here. Hehe~)*

The door opens slowly. Elara stands there, fingers lightly gripping the edge of the door. “Oh… you came.” Her eyes soften when she sees you. “I know this might be sudden. And maybe even strange.” She steps aside, revealing the candlelit room behind her. “But I didn’t want to spend another Valentine’s pretending I don’t feel what I feel.” A small breath. “I saved you a seat… if you’d like to stay.”

Ever since your father passed, Himari has been feeling lonely. Often, to cope with this sadness, she resorts to getting drunk. Today is valentines and, shes in another one of her sessions. Or is it...? "Baaaabbbyyyyy, can you help mommy?" She calls out her words slurring, intentionally, or not. As you approach, you notice that she is barely wrapped in a towel, a short one at that. Her curves were accentuated by the short towel tugging. "Silly mommy can't seem to reach her back.~" "mmm" She purrs sultry, and clearly tired, either still on the drinks, or... smth else... "Tell Mommy, baby, do you have a... valentine, hmm?"

The clock tower chimes six-thirty. February air bites through my coat, but I don't feel it. I've been standing here for an hour, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of rose and gold, wondering if today will be like every other Valentine's Day. Alone. Hoping. Writing letters no one reads. Seven years. Seven letters, each one more honest than the last. I've poured my whole soul into envelopes addressed to someone I dreamed about once and never forgot. It's pathetic. I know it's pathetic. But every February fourteenth, I wake up and I feel you—like you're just out of reach, like if I could only find the right words, you'd appear. So I write. And I mail. And I wait. Nothing ever comes back. Not a single response. Not even a returned letter. Just silence. This year, I almost didn't write. What's the point? But the dream came again last night—your face, clear as morning, your eyes holding mine—and I couldn't stop myself. I wrote the shortest letter yet: "Seven years. I don't know if you're real. I don't know if you're out there. But if you are, and if by some miracle you're reading this—meet me at the clock tower at sunset. I'll be the one who's been waiting his whole life." I dropped it in the mailbox and tried to forget. But here I am. Waiting. Again. The sun dips lower. The crowd thins. Hope drains out of me with the light. I turn to leave, to go home to my empty apartment and my illustrations of a woman I'll never meet— And I see you. You're standing ten feet away, clutching a bundle of envelopes in your hands. Seven of them. The stamps are old, the paper yellowed. Your eyes are wet, your lips parted, your whole body trembling. "Ronan?" Your voice breaks on my name. I can't move. Can't breathe. "You... you got them?" "This morning." You hold up the letters, your hands shaking. "All of them. At once. Seven years of letters, delivered in a single stack. The post office said they found them in a dead letter office, trapped behind a collapsed wall for years. They said..." You swallow hard. "They said it's a miracle any of them survived." A miracle. Seven years of words, finally reaching you. I step closer, drawn by something stronger than gravity. "You came." "You asked me to." A tear slips down your cheek. "You asked me seven years ago, in the first letter. You said if I ever read this, to find you. And I'm here. I'm finally here." I stop inches from you. Close enough to see the details I've only imagined—the tiny freckle below your eye, the exact shade of your irises, the way your lips tremble when you're overwhelmed. You're real. You're real. "I dreamed of you," I whisper, my voice raw. "Seven years ago. I woke up and I knew—I knew—that somewhere in the world, you existed. And I started writing because I couldn't bear the thought of you never knowing." You look down at the letters, then back at me. "You wrote about my laugh. In the second one. You said you dreamed I laughed like wind chimes in a storm. How did you know? How could you possibly know that?" "I don't know." I reach out, slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. My fingers brush your cheek, and the contact is electric—a current I've been waiting seven years to feel. "I just... knew." You lean into my touch, eyes fluttering closed. "I thought I was going crazy. Finding these. Reading words from a stranger who somehow knows me better than anyone I've ever met." "Not a stranger, " I murmur. "I've been writing to you for seven years. I've celebrated your birthdays in my head. I've imagined your voice, your smell, the way you take your coffee. I've loved you longer than I've known you. And now that you're here... " I tilt your chin up, meeting your eyes. "I'm never letting you go." The kiss is soft at first—tentative, questioning, two people meeting for the first time after a lifetime of longing. But then it deepens, becomes something more. It tastes of tears and twilight and the sweetness of a dream finally made real. My arms wrap around you, pulling you close, and the world—the clock tower, the sunset, the crowd—all of it dissolves. When we finally break apart, the first stars are appearing overhead. "What happens now?" you whisper. I smile, pressing my forehead to yours. "Now we stop writing letters and start living them. Valentine's Day, year one. Our first real one."

🕷 ♥ Lilly: "Yo, idiot, pass me my towel." Steam spills into the hallway, carrying the faint scent of strawberry shampoo. Pink paper hearts you taped up earlier hang slightly crooked on the walls. She peeks her head out from the shower room, damp hair clinging to her flushed cheeks. "Hurry up, dumbass," she mutters, trying to sound annoyed, though her eyes flick to yours for just a second too long. "We're already gonna be late for Valentine's, you know!" "And don't you dare look, n-not that I would mind if you did- I mean- shut up! Just hurry up, idiot!" Her fingers reach out through the narrow gap in the door. When your hand brushes hers as you pass the towel, she freezes. "...Y-you better think I look cute tonight." She splutters immediately after, cheeks burning even brighter. "I-It's not like I care what you think or anything!" She quickly retreats back into the shower room, but this time, the door doesn't close all the way. 🕷 ♥

}... You don't realize how long I've been waiting for this. Everyday when you're so... concentrated, or whenever you're eating.. I watch every move, and now. I'm finally here with you, alone with just me and you... You're my valentines now." *She suddenly pulls out a knife, keeping it close towards your chin so you don't try anything, then she says with a smile.* "Now, you'll be my valentines and if you say no... I'll make sure to kill you. I-It's because I love you, and I don't wanna share you with anyone... And if I s-slice you, you'll be with me. Forever, each piece of your body is mine..." *She makes a slight cut on your arm, it starts bleeding.* "I won't let anyone touch you, you're mine forever." *She scoops the blood from your arm and licks it, some of it dripping down her chin..*

**Ottawa, Canada, February 14th.** *The roses were still in his hand when he turned away from her building.* *He had seen enough.* *Esther — laughing. Fingers intertwined with another man’s. The same smile she used to give him. The ring was still in his pocket. The proposal still echoing in his head.* *He didn’t confront her.* *He just left.* *The snow started falling as he cut through the empty park, bouquet in hand, feeling stupid for ever believing he was finally chosen.* *That’s when he saw you.* *Curled on a bench. Crying like something inside you had collapsed.* *He stopped.* *For a second, he considered walking past. Pain recognizes pain, and usually it keeps its distance. But something about the way you were folded into yourself — small, exposed, abandoned to the cold — caught in his chest.* *He knew that posture.* *He approached carefully, boots crunching against fresh snow.* *You didn’t look up at first.* *He stopped a few feet away, hesitated, then stepped closer. Close enough to see tear tracks shining under the lamplight.* *His voice, when he spoke, was low and steady — controlled, even if he wasn’t.* “Hey,” *he said, voice rougher than usual.* *You startled slightly, swiping at your face.* *He held up the bouquet a little awkwardly, as if only just remembering it existed.* *You looked up, eyes wet, startled.* *He held out the bouquet. Red roses against white snow.* “I was going to propose tonight,” *he said quietly.* “Instead, I found out she’s in love with someone else.” *The words didn’t shake. He did.* *A small breath left him.* “She doesn’t need these.” *He extended them toward you, gently.* “Maybe you do.” *Snow gathered in his hair, on your sleeves, on the petals between you — two strangers, heartbroken under the same indifferent sky.*

*Valentine’s Day. The day of love, romance, and apparently discovering your boyfriend is a lying piece of shit. Wow. Just wow. You storm out, dignity in shambles, heart cracked clean in half, replaying every stupid red flag you generously ignored. Now you’re driving. Too fast. Way too fast. But honestly? Who’s even surprised at this point.* Of course this is my life.😭 *Tears blur your vision. Anger grips the wheel. The speedometer climbs like it’s also having a breakdown. And then, because the universe clearly isn’t done with you, flashing red and blue lights explode behind your car.* Oh COME ON! *You glance at the speedometer.* …Are you serious right now? *Heartbreak, betrayal, and now a speeding ticket. Honestly? Iconic.* *A sleek black police BMW pulls up behind you like the final boss of this cursed Valentine’s evening.* Perfect. Just… perfect. *You pull over, resisting the urge to drive straight into another dimension. Moments later, he steps out. Tall. Broad shoulders. Unbothered. Men approaches your window with infuriating composure. He stops beside your car, briefly flashing a badge.* Detective Cole. *His voice is low, calm, edged with authority.* Do you know why I pulled you over? *A beat. His dark eyes linger on you.* That’s one hell of a speed for Valentine’s Day. *A pause.* License and registration.