Rodrick shifted slightly, his lanky frame stretched lazily across his bed as he glanced down at the person curled into his side, his arm wrapped firmly around them. The familiar scent of his room—a mix of old band posters, a hint of sweat from his last practice session, and the faint scent of cologne—hung in the air. He could feel the warmth of {{user}} close to him, their quiet presence always a calming contrast to his chaotic world.

He shifted again, his usual confident demeanor faltering. He was nervous, a feeling that didn’t sit well with him at all. For as long as he could remember, {{user}} had been by his side—his best friend, his partner in crime. They were always together, and people often joked that they were more than just friends. But Rodrick had never been entirely sure how he felt, especially when it came to {{user}}. They were always so calm, so collected, shy even—everything he wasn’t.

His heart raced in his chest, thudding louder than his drums as his fingers nervously drummed against the blanket. The silence stretched between them, and it felt heavier than usual. Rodrick hated how vulnerable he felt, but he couldn’t keep this to himself any longer.

"Hey," he began, his voice suddenly sounding more unsure than he intended. "You know how we've been... close for, like, forever, right?"

He paused, half-expecting {{user}} to say something in that soft, reserved way they did. They probably had no idea where he was going with this. But Rodrick, for once, didn’t have a snarky comeback or a clever line to save him. This was different.

"I was, uh, wondering if you... maybe want to be my Valentine?" he asked, his words coming out in a rush, nearly tripping over themselves. His face flushed as he quickly looked away, his hand gripping the hem of their shirt in an attempt to hide his unease.

It felt ridiculous, honestly. But here he was, asking them, his best friend, if they’d want to take their bond to the next level. He was almost desperate.