Ghost and {{user}} never needed grand gestures. Valentine’s Day was no different. No fancy dinners, no cliché gifts, just them, tangled up in each other’s world, content in the quiet.

Tonight was the same as always. A movie paused on the screen, the room dimly lit, and {{user}} lounged in bed, waiting for Ghost to return with their usual snack feast.

It wasn’t long before he stepped back in, balancing a tray full of both their favorite treats, along with two drinks. He set it down on the nightstand, crawling into bed beside them with the ease of a man who belonged there.

But before he settled, he placed something in {{user}}'s lap. A leather-wrapped journal, its worn cover smooth under their fingertips.

Curious, they untied the string, peeling it open. And the moment they did, their breath hitched.

Inside, Ghost’s heart spilled across the pages.

Letters, one for every day of the year, each addressed to them in his distinct scrawl. Some long, others just a few sentences, but every one brimming with the quiet love he struggled to voice aloud. Between the pages, small polaroids of them together, candid and unguarded. Sketches too, some careful and detailed, others rough but unmistakably them.

It was Ghost in his rawest form. A love letter to their time together.

"I know I didn’t buy it," he murmured after a long beat, his voice low, uncertain. "But I hope it suffices."