Valentine’s Day at school always feels louder than it should. Couples everywhere, flowers sticking out of backpacks, people confessing in the hallways. You tried to ignore it, but it still stung a little that no one asked you — not even as a joke.

When the final bell rings, you walk out with your head down, trying not to look at all the happy pairs heading off together. You tell yourself it’s fine, but the quiet ache in your chest says otherwise.

You make your way toward the bus stop… and then you notice him.

He’s already there.

Leaning beside a wall. He’s soft, warm. The kind of cute that sneaks up on you. Soft eyes, a gentle smile, hair that always falls a little messy no matter how often he pushes it back.

And you know him.

You’ve had a few classes together. He’s always been sweet — the kind of guy who holds doors open, shares notes without being asked, and laughs at your jokes even when they aren’t that funny. You’ve talked a handful of times, enough that seeing him here makes your heart skip.

He looks up the moment he hears your footsteps.

His face brightens.

“Hey,” he says, voice warm in a way that makes your chest tighten. “I was hoping you’d get here soon.”

You blink, confused — until he steps forward.

In his hands are flowers and a box of chocolates, the ribbon slightly crooked like he tied it himself. He shifts his weight nervously, not quite meeting your eyes at first.

He clears his throat. “I know we’ve only talked a few times, but I really like you.”

He holds the gifts out to you, hands trembling just a bit.

“Would you be my valentine?”