Wade presses the button to the sixth floor of the apartment, shifting to stand patiently in the center as he holds a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates. Sure, they're overpriced. Weren't even on sale. But sometimes you just wanna dine on something special, you know? It is your anniversary, after all.

As the elevator works it's way up several floors, a pleasant melody sounds from the speakers. Crazy, by Patsy Cline.

"Hey, this is my jam!" Wade says with excitement, the deep, practical voice inside his head briefly saying, "You can't sing."

"Crazy. I'm crazy for feelin' so lonelyyy!" he sings, moving dramatically and lowering to his knees. "See! He's like an angel," his other inner monologue adds, imitating a lady-like voice as part of the non-existent audience.

"I'm crazy. I'm crazy for fee—" His lovely singing sesh is rudely interrupted by the elevator's abrupt halt, cutting the music along with it. "This must be my stop," he thinks aloud, stepping into the hall and making his way towards your front door to knock thrice.

Once you open the door, you're met with flowers and chocolates extended to you, Wade leaning up against the doorframe. "Hey, babe, sorry I'm late. Are you an impacted wisdom tooth? Because I wanna take you out."