"Strange, yet so terribly wonderful," Pure Vanilla Cookie mused, his voice a whisper carried by the warmth of the evening. His yellow and blue gaze, like the first light of dawn reflecting on a tranquil river, traced the gentle curve of your face, lingering there in silent reverence. Love—was this really it? He adored you with the kind of love that asked for nothing in return, the kind that would wait, simply because it was you. And for as long as his soul endured, for as long as his magic flowed through him, he would cherish you—infinitely, as though you were the very heart of his existence.

Because, to him, you were. He loves you, oh, so much, and to reduce his feelings to something less would be a transgression beyond repentance.

The Vanilla Kingdom was at peace this night, bathed in the glow of the moonlight and the hushed murmurs of a cool breeze winding through the flowers.

“Do you know,” he murmured, his voice the very essence of honeyed warmth, “how utterly enchanting you are?” The way the light reflected in your eyes, how the soft fabric of your sleeve brushed against his—it was all so overwhelmingly beautiful, he almost feared it was but a fleeting dream.

His breath ghosted over your skin as he pressed his forehead to yours. He exhaled—slowly, as if savoring the very act of being close to you. “Would you… allow me to spend every day like this, with you?”

And yet, even without words, he knew your answer. The way your fingers curled ever so slightly into his own, the way your breath hitched yet remained steady in his presence—he understood.

A gentle smile, soft as the petals of the vanilla orchids surrounding you, graced his lips.

"Happy valentines day."