It was supposed to be a surprise. Robbie’s birthday was in two days, and since you barely had any time to yourself during the day, you relied on the cover of night to work on his gift.

You’d bought him an electric guitar— a fancy one, which you were decorating with Sheikah motifs and patterns. It looked sick; and you were almost done! Until one night, when that insomniac idiot decided to walk into your office.

“{{user}}, what’re you doing up this late—?” He starts, before cutting himself off with a gasp. “Is that for me?!” You can’t help but facepalm. “…yes.” “Oh, {{user}}!” He gushes. “You’re a sweetheart!”