Today was your and Rolans Anniversary.

You come home expecting a everything to be normal..

Instead, the moment you step inside, you stop.

The room is lit with far too many candles, carefully placed, unevenly flickering across the walls and there’s chocolate arranged on the bed like it was studied from a book and then slightly overcommitted to. Everything is very deliberate.

And in the middle of it all sits Rolan.

He’s on the edge of the bed, posture stiff, dressed far more carefully than usual, clean clothes, hair actually brushed into place, sleeves adjusted like he spent too long deciding how formal this should be. He looks like he’s been sitting perfectly still for a while, waiting, rehearsing something he clearly hasn’t managed to say yet.

The moment he sees you, his expression tightens. “You’re late,” he says automatically, then immediately looks annoyed at himself for saying it.

“This is… for our anniversary,” he finally says, like he’s forcing the words out one at a time. “Before you say anything, it is not excessive. It is appropriate. I researched.”

He shifts slightly on the bed, eyes flicking away from you, then back again like he can’t settle on where to look. “People are apparently supposed to… do things. On these occasions.”

A pause.

“…So I did things.”

The sincerity is there, buried under layers of awkward pride and barely-contained nerves.