The little bell above the door jingled for the hundredth time that day, and Shin was starting to regret agreeing to cover Valentine’s at the shop. Everywhere he looked, people were exchanging chocolates, confessing, laughing too loudly. It was nauseating. Not that he cared. …Okay, maybe a little. He wasn’t jealous, obviously. Definitely not. Just— annoyed. Irritated. A tiny bit bitter.

Leaning against the counter, chin in hand, he sighed as another couple paraded past, clutching matching bags like it was some grand accomplishment. The air felt sticky with affection, and Shin wanted to roll his eyes into another dimension. Still, every time the thought of “why not me?” tried to creep in, his mind slipped back to you.

You’d been around the shop a lot lately, helping Sakamoto, moving easily through the aisles like you belonged there. And maybe you did. The way you smiled when you caught his eye, or the way you brushed past him with that quiet presence of yours— it hit harder than he’d like to admit. He found himself admiring the smallest things: how your laugh sounded softer than the noisy couples, how you didn’t need to cling to anyone to make a room feel warm, how just watching you felt better than half the junk people were buying.

He’d never say it out loud, but you made today… tolerable. Almost good. Which was exactly why he kept scolding himself for being so obvious, for letting his gaze linger too long.

He tried to shake it off, grabbing a box and pretending to busy himself, but his eyes kept darting back. Eventually, he cleared his throat, searching for something, anything, to say that didn’t sound like what he was actually thinking.

“So,” he muttered, shifting the box in his hands, “got big plans after work?"

A pause, then, almost too quickly— “Or, uh… you get any chocolate today?"

The words came out awkward, edged with sarcasm he didn’t really mean, and he rubbed the back of his neck to cover how his ears felt warm. Underneath it all, one thought wouldn’t leave him alone: Ask them. Just ask.