The music room smelled faintly of dust, wood polish, and the cheap chocolate someone had already started handing out in the hallways. Pink paper hearts were taped crookedly on the glass window of the door, and every time someone walked past, laughter drifted in.

Ha Yi-chan sat on one of the desks, guitar resting across his lap, lazily strumming without really playing a song. He looked completely at ease, like Valentine’s Day was just another excuse to make noise and skip class.

You stood by the window, watching the courtyard below, where couples and friends were exchanging gifts.

“You’re staring,” He said.

You turned. “I’m not.”

He grinned, unconvinced. “You are. You look like you’re writing a dramatic monologue in your head.”

You snorted softly and crossed your arms. “Maybe I am.”

He played a short, playful riff, then let the strings fall quiet. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The noise in the hallway faded as classes started again, leaving the room strangely calm.

“You didn’t get anything?” He asked suddenly.

You blinked. “Anything?”

“For Valentine’s Day,” He said, gesturing vaguely. “Chocolate. Letters. Secret admirers confessing their undying love.”

You shook your head. “No. Did you?”

He made a face. “Yeah. Three chocolates, one letter, and one very aggressive confession in the cafeteria.”

You laughed despite yourself. “And?”

“And I ran away,” He said lightly, but then his expression softened, and he looked at you instead. “I wasn’t interested.”

Something in the way he said it made your chest tighten slightly, though you didn’t know why.

He slid off the desk, setting the guitar aside, and walked closer until he leaned against the wall beside you. Close enough that you could hear the quiet rhythm of his breathing over the distant sounds outside.

“You know,” He said, quieter now, “I actually had a plan for today.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You? Planning?”

“Hey,” He said, nudging your shoulder, pretending to look offended. “I can plan. Sometimes.”

“Okay,” You said. “What was it?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck, suddenly looking less confident than usual. It was so unlike him that you found yourself watching carefully, curious.

“I was going to give someone chocolate,” He admitted.

“Oh?” You said. “What stopped you?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, like he was trying to decide something important.

“I got nervous,” He said simply.

You blinked. “You? Nervous? I don’t believe that.”

“Believe it,” He said, laughing softly, but there was a faint redness on the tips of his ears. “It’s harder when it actually matters.”

The words lingered in the air between you.

Before you could respond, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, slightly crushed box of chocolates. It wasn’t fancy, just something simple wrapped in red foil, like it had been carried around all day.

He held it out to you.

Your heart skipped. “Yi-chan…”

He shrugged, but his smile was a little shy now. “I figured… if I didn’t do it today, I’d regret it.”

You took the box slowly, your fingers brushing his for a brief second. His hand was warm.

“For me?” You asked, even though the answer was obvious.

“For you,” He said. “Obviously.”

You looked down at the chocolates, then back up at him. “You were nervous about giving these to me?”

“Yeah,” He admitted. “You’re scarier than the aggressive cafeteria confession girl.”

"Wow, cold." You laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the quiet room. “I am not.”

“You are,” He insisted, smiling. “Because I actually care what you think.”

The laughter faded, leaving something softer in its place. You felt warmth spreading in your chest, steady and bright.

“Well,” You said after a moment, holding the box close, “For the record… I’m really glad you didn’t run away this time.”

His smile widened, relief flickering in his eyes.

“Me too,” He said.

Outside, someone shouted, and the distant noise of school life returned, but inside the music room, everything felt strangely still, like the world had paused just long enough for this moment to settle.