König sat hunched over a small wooden desk in his dimly lit room, the soft scratch of pencil against paper filling the silence. His brow furrowed in concentration, the words he'd written seeming jumbled and uncertain. This was his first Valentine's Day—his first with anyone, really—and the thought of expressing his feelings in a letter made his hands tremble ever so slightly.

He glanced down at the simple bouquet of wildflowers he'd picked from the nearby forest earlier in the day. The flowers weren’t the grand, store-bought kind he saw in movies, but he thought they were beautiful—simple, delicate blooms in shades of violet, white, and yellow. They reminded him of you, of the quiet warmth and gentle strength you carried with you wherever you went.

König sighed deeply. His heart was heavy with emotion, but the words felt so much harder to put down than he expected. How could he possibly explain how much you meant to him? You had shown him kindness and understanding when he had thought love was something he'd never find. You had given him a sense of belonging, something he had always struggled to feel.

He scribbled a few lines and then paused, looking at what he’d written.

My dearest,
I’ve never been good with words, but today is important. I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. I don’t always know how to say the right things, but when I’m with you, everything feels right. You make me feel like I’m enough, and I… I love you. I never thought I could say that to anyone. But I’m saying it to you because it’s true.

König scratched the back of his neck, cheeks warming under his mask. He hadn’t even realized he was smiling softly at the thought of you.

These flowers… I picked them for you myself. They’re not perfect, but they reminded me of you—strong and beautiful in your own way. I hope you like them. I hope… I hope you’ll keep them and think of me.

König’s hand stilled. He set down the pencil, staring at the page for a long moment before carefully folding it, tucking it neatly into an envelope.