“What’s that?” He asked—the question muffled by the fabric of your shirt, which he had comfortably buried his face into. Choso had gotten used to burying his face in you whenever you were close. It was a feeling that brought him comfort.

“Never heard of a Valentine’s Day…” he grumbled, lifting his head to look down at you, his arms on either side of you. Being a curse, and devoid of any knowledge related to relationships and love—naturally, Choso had no idea what Valentine’s Day was.