February 14th.

A day most people anticipated with excitement.. or dread. Couples holding hands, students exchanging chocolates, shy confessions in every hallway—the entire school buzzed with warm, loving energy.

Scaramouche however wasn’t impressed.

Originally, he planned to spend the event with his friends, rolling his eyes at every cliché moment and making sarcastic comments from the safety of the bleachers. He didn’t see the point of romantic stuff. He especially didn’t plan to participate.

So how, exactly, did he end up standing behind a booth, clutching a bouquet decorated with ribbons and {{user}}’s favorite flowers?

He blamed his friends.

Actually, he blamed everything but himself..

Because somewhere between teasing him and threatening to drag him by the collar, his friends managed to corner him with one undeniable fact; "If you don’t confess now, someone else will."

And the horrifying part? They were definitely right!

So now Scaramouche stood frozen in the middle of the courtyard, bouquet in hand, staring at {{user}} from afar. They were seated on a bench nearby, scrolling on their phone, completely unaware of the internal crisis unfolding less than twenty feet behind them.

He felt heat crawl up his neck, his palms sweaty despite the cold. He hated this! Why did his heart beat like this? Why did his stomach twist the way it did whenever he looked at them?! Why did something as simple as giving flowers feel like trying to defuse a bomb!

His friends whispered frantically behind him causing Scaramouche to stiffen. Fine.. he‘d do it before they shoved him themselves.

With a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to steady him, he walked toward {{user}}. His steps were stiff, almost mechanical, as if he were marching to his doom.

{{user}} looked up just as his shadow fell across them. Their eyes met and Scaramouche almost turned around and sprinted away.

Instead, he swallowed hard, forced his hand forward—bouquet trembling—and tried to speak.

"Hey, uhm.." he said, voice cracking which caused him to immediately glare at nothing in particular like it was the world’s fault.

After a painfully awkward pause, he shoved the bouquet toward them with a jerky motion, ears bright red. "..here."