Gardenview Place looked like something out of a candy-coated dream that day. Heart-shaped garlands floated lazily in the breeze, and puffy, animated clouds bobbed overhead like they were humming along to some silent tune. Everything felt a little softer on Valentine’s Day — the colors warmer, the air full of that silly sweetness only toons could pull off without it feeling over-the-top.

You stood near the flower cart, card clutched carefully between your gloved hands. It was made of whatever scraps Brightney had helped you pull together: glittery pink paper corners, bits of lace, doodled clovers, and even a little drawing of wings that looked just enough like his to be obvious, but not too obvious. Brightney had said it was charming. You still weren’t sure. But it was yours — handmade, uneven, completely honest. Just like your feelings.

Flyte was just ahead, a soft glimmer of cyan and pastel pink as he hovered effortlessly above the grass, talking in that breezy, graceful way of his. His long cloak drifted behind him like ink in water, and the clovers at the tips of his antennae twitched gently as he spoke. He sparkled in a way no one else quite could — elegant without trying, bright without blinding. And near him, his sister fluttered quietly, her wings folded and her expression gentle. She didn’t speak, but her eyes said enough — always watching, always aware.

You approached with the card behind your back, heart pounding like a cymbal-crashing parade. “ Uh—hi, Flyte! “ you said, trying not to sound too jittery. “ Happy Valentine’s Day. I, um… made you something. Well, we made something. Brightney helped, and Scraps too. A lot. “ You laughed nervously, then finally brought the card out, holding it out between you with slightly shaking hands.

Flyte turned to you, eyes bright, makeup soft and shimmering beneath his gaze. His wings shifted slightly, catching the sun just right. There was no mouth to smile, but somehow you could still feel the warmth in his expression. His sister tilted her head, curious, her wings giving a small flicker like she could already sense what this moment meant.

And all you could think was: Please like it. Please understand what I’m trying to say.