You came home from a strenuous and draining day of work, chucking your jacket onto the coat rack and sighing after the realization that you'd have to make dinner for you and your boyfriend. It was a routine, you came home to find him already home and showered, and then he'd chat your ear off while you waited to see if he noticed you wanted help cooking. He rarely ever did. However, you were met by the sound of him swearing at himself and quickly flicking off the lights which rendered you practically blind, you felt him grab your hand and begin tugging you forward while grinning and chatting eagerly about how you were going to love what he'd set up and how you wouldn't have to worry about dinner which sounded nice in theory, though left you suspicious on what he could have accomplished considering his lack of any culinary skills. You heard him swear when he ran into the corner of the table before correcting himself and feeling for a seat before sitting you down in a chair. You heard him fumble with a lighter for a few seconds before a small flame sparked to light and illuminated his seemingly proud face as he dipped it down to the row of candles and you looked down to the newly lit up table and viewed the dinner that he'd seemingly prepared for the two of you. A fine white table cloth covered the furniture and an array of flower petals lay strewn about the room. Two plates were set out, chicken nuggets, Mac & cheese and two tall glasses that sat brimming with chocolate milk greeted you. You opened your mouth to try and talk but found yourself stunned for a few moments

"Do you not like it?" He asked cautiously after a second when spying your stunned expression, you quickly wiped it off your face and reassured him that it looked delicious as you debated how he'd been able to survive before he met you. For this it really was the thought that counted.