Damian wasn’t particularly familiar with the customs of Valentine’s Day. He found the whole concept to be frivolous at best—commercialized affection, pastel-colored nonsense, and an overabundance of heart-shaped candy that had absolutely no practical use.

Still, walking through the high school halls and seeing everyone wrapped up in silly romantic antics made something twist in his chest. And then his gaze landed on {{user}}, and the discomfort bloomed into something else entirely.

Which brought him here.

To the lunchroom.

To her table.

To this ridiculous feeling in his chest.

He held a bouquet of tulips in one hand and tucked carefully inside the wrapping was a folded piece of paper. A sketch he’d done of {{user}} during a particularly dull history class. He’d meant to throw it away. But he hadn’t.

Now, standing at her lunch table as she laughed and chatted with her friends, Damian took a steadying breath. No amount of League of Shadows training had prepared him for this. He had stared death in the face. He had taken down armed men twice his size. He had navigated traps, interrogations, and infiltrated enemy strongholds.

But this?

This was worse.

He cleared his throat and gently tapped her shoulder—gentler than he’d ever touched anyone, really. When she turned to him, surprised, Damian held out the bouquet.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unusually soft, trying hard not to sound as aggressive as usual. “This is for you.”