It’s 12:05 a.m. when the air in the bedroom shifts — a sudden rush of wind, curtains snapping before settling again. He’s just there, red hair mussed, jeans and a worn T-shirt instead of anything heroic. A faint smell of night air and ozone clings to him. He leans over the bed slightly, careful, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth.

“Okay, don’t panic,” he whispers quickly. “It’s me. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He straightens abruptly. “Wait. No — I messed up.” His eyes widen. “I forgot the flowers.”

The words barely finish before he vanishes with a sharp crack of displaced air. Three seconds later he reappears in the exact same spot, slightly crouched from momentum, clutching a messy bundle of wildflowers. There are petals tangled in his hair and a thin scratch along his wrist.

“Bushes fight back, apparently,” he mutters, pulling a leaf from his curls and offering the bouquet with a hopeful, lopsided smile.

He holds up three different heart-shaped chocolate boxes with his other hand. “I couldn’t decide,” he admits, stepping closer and setting them carefully on the nightstand.

“So this one’s from Central City, this one’s from Keystone, and this one— honestly I don’t even know. I saw ‘limited edition’ and panicked.” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly less smooth than he’d planned to be.

He shifts his weight, energy still buzzing under his skin even while he forces himself to stand still.

“I know it’s late. Or early. Whatever.” A softer laugh escapes him. “I just wanted to be the first person to tell you that you’re my favorite part of the day. I run everywhere else. I don’t want to run past this.”