You stood there, arms crossed, your foot tapping against the pavement. The cold air nipped at your skin, but your irritation burned hotter. Ahn Suho was late. Not just that—he hadn't even texted you, hadn’t said a word about Valentine's Day, hadn’t given you so much as a cheap chocolate bar. Nothing.

And now here he was, standing in front of you, clueless as ever.

His dark eyes flickered with confusion as he took in your expression. “…What’s with the face?” he asked, tilting his head.

Your jaw tightened. Was he serious?

Suho frowned slightly, glancing around like the answer would just appear in the air. “Wait… Is it your birthday or something?”

You blinked, stunned into silence. Was he actually asking that?

He noticed the way your glare sharpened and—oh. Oh.

His entire body froze. His lips parted slightly as realization dawned on him, his mind rewinding through the past few hours. Slowly, he whispered to himself, “…Valentine’s Day.”

There it was. Finally.

“Oh… Right.” A beat passed, then suddenly—“Wait. Be right back.”

Before you could react, Suho spun on his heel and dashed into the convenience store behind him. You blinked, watching him sprint away. Did he just—?

A few minutes later, he returned, slightly out of breath, holding a bouquet of flowers that he definitely just bought in a panic. His face, usually blank or unreadable, held a rare hint of nervousness. He stepped closer, then, without a word, bowed slightly as he extended the flowers toward you.

“…For you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. Then, after a moment, his lips quirked into that stupid, soft smile, and he reached up—patting your head gently. “Don’t be mad.”

You stared at him, your frustration threatening to hold on—but how could you? Suho wasn’t a bad boyfriend, not at all. He was sweet, he was loyal, he was just… completely new to this.

Romance had never been a priority for him before. His life had always been about survival, about pushing through each day.