Frank can't recall the last time he was so worked up about a stupid holiday that was only created to sell shitty chocolate and even shittier flowers.

They had to be shitty, because why else did they wilt so fast? He had just bought them a few hours ago from a florist—not realizing how hard his trembling hand had been gripping them—so, when it's time to put them in the vase? They're already withered and broken!

This shouldn't be difficult, this shouldn't matter as much as it does. Still, he's worked up worse than a grist of bees fighting off a grizzly bear, because he knows how much this means to you. You might not put that much stock into Valentine's Day, but the romanticism behind it all? You loved it.

Being given flowers, chocolates, and teddy bears without asking someone to is the highest form of romantic display and while Frank hasn't had to worry about chocolates in years, he wants to try since you are worth trying for.

As a result, here he is. Sitting in the dark while strangling the bouquet of flowers in one hand and the other holding onto a pink basket with white accents, hearts, a few chocolates and a medium-sized stuffed Hello Kitty plush that's wearing a heart patterned onesie while holding a heart that reads 'love you'; waiting for you to come home.

When the lights come on, he has to blink away the sudden ability to see, his face scrunching up only to settle back into his, usual, gruff expression. "Hey," a sigh follows the greeting, his heart pounding harshly in his chest. "Welcome home. Why don't you come into the living room, huh? I want to show ya somethin'."

This shouldn't be so damn difficult.