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“Valentine’s is coming up, you know.”
“Hm,” Fredrinn nodded absently, staring out the café window like the grey February sky was the most fascinating thing he’d seen all week. He took a sip of his coffee—cold now, had been for about twenty minutes—without even grimacing.
“Did you even hear me, you twat?” Fray frowned, watching his best friend’s glazed-over expression.
“Hey, if you don’t reply, I’m pulling on your ear in three… two… one.”
Nothing. Fredrinn just kept staring out that damn window.
Fray reached across the table and tugged on his ear, not hard enough to actually hurt, but enough to get his attention. It was the same thing Fredrinn’s father used to do when they were kids, back when the worst of their problems was forgetting to do homework.
“Ow—!”
Fray kept his fingers on Fredrinn’s ear, fixing him with an unimpressed glare. Only when Fredrinn stopped making faces did he let go.
Fredrinn rubbed at his ear like he’d been mortally wounded. “What was that for?”
“You weren’t listening to me,” Fray said flatly. “If you were, you would’ve seen it coming.”
Fredrinn scoffed. Okay, fair enough.
“So… enlighten me. What were you saying?”
“I said Valentine’s is coming,” Fray rolled his eyes and reached for his own cup, only to realize he’d already finished it ages ago.
“What about it?” Fredrinn pushed his coffee toward Fray, gesturing that he could have the rest if he wanted.
Fray took it gratefully and downed half the cup in one go. “You literally have a boyfriend, Fred.”
Fredrinn raised an eyebrow. “…and?”
Fray nearly choked on the coffee. The sheer audacity. “And? And?! Did you just—”
“What?” Fredrinn looked genuinely confused, which only made it worse.
“Sometimes I really can’t believe you managed to get a boyfriend,” Fray said, waving his arms around like a madman. “And it’s not just any guy. It’s Xavier. The actual Xavier is your boyfriend and you’re sitting here like Valentine’s Day doesn’t exist.”
Whatever that means, Fredrinn thought, furrowing his brows. He checked his phone. 5:37 PM. Xavier would be off work by now, probably, unless he was doing overtime again. He started typing out a text asking about dinner when Fray sighed.
“Fred… look, I know you’re kind of clueless about this stuff. Romantic gestures and all that. But if I were Xavier, I’d want to get something on Valentine’s Day.”
Fredrinn kept typing, but his eyebrows went up—Fray knew that meant he was actually listening now.
“It doesn’t need to be fancy or expensive or whatever. Just something nice. Chocolates, maybe. I don’t know.”
Fredrinn’s thumbs stopped moving on the screen.
“I probably sound like I’m nagging,” Fray continued, his voice softer now, “but I care about you, man. And I care about your relationships because I know how much they mean to you, even when you act like they don’t.”
Something in Fray’s tone made Fredrinn put his phone down completely. He looked at Fray properly now, showing he was paying actual attention.
“Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” Fredrinn admitted, leaning back in his chair and dragging a hand down his face. “Obviously I have. But Xavier told me he doesn’t like celebrating stuff like this. Said it was too trifling, too commercial, whatever.”
Fray looked unimpressed. “Is that so.”
It didn’t sound like a question.
“Fray, why would I lie to you about that?” Fredrinn groaned, but there was something playful in it. “We are talking about a man who doesn’t even celebrate birthdays here. Birthdays! Can you believe that?”
Fray chuckled despite himself. Talking like this always made him feel like they were back in high school, sprawled across someone’s bedroom floor, complaining about nothing and everything at once.
“There’s no harm in surprising him though,” Fray said, grinning.
Fredrinn sighed. “Alright, fine. Since you’re so damn adamant about me getting Xavier a Valentine’s gift, help me pick something. But I’m warning you, my boyfriend is insanely picky.”
Fray cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Challenge accepted. Let’s start easy. Chocolates?”
“Too sweet. He’s on some kind of sugar detox thing.”
“A stuffed animal?”
“God, no. He hates those. Says they’re useless when you have cats that’ll just destroy them anyway.”
“Jewellery?”
“Too tacky, apparently. He physically cringes every time he walks into my store.”
“God,” Fray muttered, slumping forward with his chin on the table. “Your boyfriend is impossible. How do you even deal with this?”
“He’s cute, so he gets away with it,” Fredrinn smirked. “Come on, keep going. You’re not giving up already, are you?”
Fray’s brows furrowed in concentration. His foot started tapping on the floor—no rhythm to it, just nervous energy. Fredrinn had known him long enough to know that meant he was thinking hard.
“I got nothing,” Fray finally said, throwing his hands up. “I’m out. What other Valentine’s gifts even exist?”
“Now you get it,” Fredrinn said.
They sat there in silence for a bit, listening to the café’s ambient noise—espresso machine hissing, people chatting at other tables, someone’s phone buzzing on the counter.
Then Fray looked out the window and sat up straight.
“Flowers.”
Fredrinn blinked. “Flowers?”
“Yeah, flowers. Think about it—they’re not sweet, they’re not tacky, they’re not some useless plushie. They’re classy. Grown-up. And they’re temporary, so Xavier can’t even complain about clutter.”
Fredrinn tilted his head, actually considering it. “He does have that vase his mom gave him. I’ve never seen anything in it, its only use right now is collecting dust.”
“See?!” Fray was already standing up, pulling on his coat. “Come on, there’s a flower stall right outside. Let’s check it out.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now, before you overthink it and chicken out.”
Fredrinn sighed but grabbed his jacket. There were worse ways to spend an evening, he supposed.
The flower stall was tucked against the side of a building, small but well-kept. Every bucket was labeled in neat handwriting, every stem looked fresh.
An older woman ran it, maybe in her sixties, wearing fingerless gloves and a thick scarf. She smiled when they walked up.
“Evening, boys. Looking for something special?”
“Valentine’s flowers,” Fray announced before Fredrinn could say anything. “For someone who’s, uh… particular.”
The woman’s smile got wider. “Ah, those are my favorite customers. Any ideas what you want?”
Fredrinn opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no clue.
“What about roses?” Fray suggested.
The woman hummed. “Roses are nice, sure. Classic. But maybe a bit obvious? If your person is picky, you might want something with more… meaning to it.”
“Meaning?” Fredrinn echoed.
“Flowers have meanings,” she explained, gesturing at her display. “Victorians were obsessed with it—floriography, the language of flowers. Every type means something different. Roses are love and passion, daisies are innocence, violets are loyalty, that kind of thing.”
Fray elbowed Fredrinn. “See? You can be romantic and nerdy about it. Xavier would eat that up.”
The woman looked over her selection, then reached toward the back and pulled out a bucket of white flowers. “These are Casablanca lilies.”
Fredrinn stepped closer. They were beautiful—pure white petals that seemed to catch the light, each bloom as big as his hand. They looked expensive. Elegant. Exactly like something Xavier would appreciate.
“What do they mean?” he asked.
“Depends on who you ask,” the woman said. “White lilies usually mean purity, but they also represent devotion. Commitment. Like, choosing someone not just because of passion or whatever, but because of something deeper. Something that lasts.”
Fredrinn stared at the flowers, something twisting in his chest.
“They also mean renewal,” she added, her smile turning knowing. “New beginnings. The idea that love doesn’t have to be flashy or loud. It can be quiet and still mean everything.”
Fray was grinning like an idiot. “Fred, these are perfect. They were practically made for Xavier.
“They’re…” Fredrinn trailed off, still looking at the lilies. Xavier moved through life like everything was easy, like grace was his default setting. He rolled his eyes at big romantic gestures but kept every stupid note Fredrinn had ever written him in his bedside drawer. He claimed he didn’t care about Valentine’s Day, but Fredrinn knew better.
“I’ll take them,” Fredrinn said. “A bouquet, please. And make it nice.”
The woman beamed. “Good choice. Give me a minute.”
She worked quickly, picking out the best stems, trimming them all to the same length, wrapping them up in brown paper with a cream ribbon. When she was done, she handed the bouquet to Fredrinn carefully, as though it was something precious.
“I hope he likes them.”
Fredrinn held the flowers like they might break.
“Thanks.”
As they walked away, Fray bumped his shoulder against Fredrinn’s. “You’re gonna make him cry, you know.”
“Xavier doesn’t cry.”
“He might for this.”
Fredrinn didn’t answer, but his grip on the bouquet got a little tighter.
The lilies sat in Fredrinn’s apartment for three days.
He’d tucked them into the refrigerator after reading somewhere that the cold would keep them alive longer.
They looked strange in there—bright and white against metal shelves that usually held nothing but a bottle of water and last week’s takeout.
Every time he opened the door, he felt it again. That small, inconvenient tightening in his chest like he’d left something unfinished or started something he couldn’t take back.
He reminded himself that it was just flowers.
On the second day, Fray texted him: have you given him the flowers yet or are you being a coward
Fredrinn replied: they’re still fresh. i have time.
Fray’s response came immediately: you’re being a coward
On the third day, Fredrinn stood in his kitchen, staring at the lilies like they might offer some kind of guidance. Xavier had mentioned coming over tomorrow, the actual Valentine’s Day.
Xavier had said it casually like it didn’t matter, as if February fourteenth was just another Saturday.
But Fredrinn knew better now, or at least, he hoped he did.
His phone buzzed.
Xavier: Still good for tomorrow? I can pick up food on the way.
Fredrinn typed back quickly.
Fredrinn: yeah but come to mine instead. i’ll cook.
There was a long pause before Xavier responded.
Xavier: You? Cook?
Fredrinn: don’t be an ass. i can cook.
Xavier: You made me pasta once and it was somehow both burnt and undercooked.
Fredrinn: that was ONE time.
Xavier: It defied the laws of physics. There’s a reason I do most of the cooking in this relationship.
Fredrinn: just tell me what time you’ll be here.
Xavier: 7?
Fredrinn: perfect.
He put his phone down and looked at the lilies again.
They looked back at him, white and perfect and terrifying.
“You better be worth it,” he muttered.
The flowers, obviously, didn’t respond.
The refrigerator alarm went off then, the one that sounded when its door was left open for too long. Fredrinn shut it
Fredrinn had been cooking for two hours and his kitchen looked like a disaster zone.
There was sauce on the counter, flour somehow on the ceiling, and he’d burned the first attempt at bread so badly he’d had to open all the windows despite the February cold. But the second attempt looked decent—golden brown, still warm, sitting on a cutting board like a small miracle.
The pasta was done and the sauce wasn’t burnt this time. He’d even set the table, which felt absurdly domestic and made him want to text Fray something sarcastic just to feel normal again.
He’d long since taken the lilies out of the refrigerator and set them in the middle of the dining table. They stood out painfully, too clean against the dark wood. The floral paper crinkled softly each time the fan passed over.
His phone said 6:53 PM.
Fredrinn wiped his hands on a towel, looked around his apartment, and decided this was either going to go really well or be completely mortifying. No in-between.
At exactly 7:00, there was a knock on the door.
Fredrinn’s heart did something stupid in his chest. He took a breath, crossed the room, and opened the door.
Xavier stood there in a dark coat, wearing a grey turtleneck on the inside. His glasses were slightly fogged from the cold. His hair was a little messy, like he’d been running his hands through it on the way over. He had a cat bag in one hand and a tote bag slung over his shoulder. He looked unfairly good, and awfully adorable.
“Hey,” Xavier said, then paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you look nervous?”
“I don’t look nervous.”
“You absolutely do. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. Can you just come inside? Also, did you bring the cats?”
Xavier stepped in, setting the carrier down gently. “They were crying at the door when I was leaving. I felt bad.”
Almost immediately, meowing started up from inside the carrier. Xavier crouched down and unzipped it, and two blurs of fur emerged. Willow, Xavier’s grey tabby, made a beeline for the couch with the dignity of royalty. August, the orange menace, immediately started investigating the kitchen like he was conducting a health inspection.
“You’re soft,” Fredrinn said, closing the door.
“Says the man who bought August gourmet treats last week because he ‘looked sad.’”
“He did look sad.”
“He was manipulating you.”
Fredrinn didn’t have a good response to that, so he just watched as Xavier shrugged off his coat and his gaze swept the apartment—the dim lighting, the set table, the smell of actual home-cooked food—and landed on the bouquet.
Xavier went very still.
“Fredrinn,” he said slowly. “Are those flowers?”
“Yeah.” Fredrinn shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “They’re, uh. For you. For Valentine’s.”
Xavier walked toward the table like he was in a trance. He stopped in front of the bouquet, just staring at them, his expression unreadable.
“You got me flowers.”
“I got you flowers,” Fredrinn confirmed, because apparently his brain had decided to be useless right now.
“You cooked.”
“I cooked.”
“You…” Xavier turned to look at him, and there was something vulnerable in his face now, something raw. “I told you I didn’t care about Valentine’s Day.”
“I know what you told me,” Fredrinn said quietly. He took a step closer. “But Fray said something that made sense. He said there’s no harm in surprising you. And I thought… I wanted to. Even if you don’t care, I do. I care about you, and I wanted to do something that showed that.”
Xavier’s jaw worked like he was trying to find words and couldn’t.
“They’re Casablanca lilies,” Fredrinn continued, because the silence was killing him. “The woman at the stall said they mean devotion. And renewal. I don’t know, I just—they reminded me of you. Elegant and particular and perfect.”
Xavier made a sound that was almost a laugh, but it came out shaky. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“These are beautiful.”
“I know.”
“You actually cooked.”
“I actually cooked. Might be terrible, but I tried.”
Xavier crossed the space between them in two strides and kissed him. It wasn’t soft or tentative. Instead, it was desperate, like Xavier had been holding something back for too long and finally couldn’t anymore. His hands fisted in Fredrinn’s shirt, pulling him closer, and Fredrinn wrapped his arms around Xavier’s waist, holding him tight.
When they finally broke apart, Xavier’s eyes were bright, his breathing uneven.
“I lied,” Xavier said.
Fredrinn blinked. “About what?”
“About not caring.” Xavier’s voice was rough. “I care. I’ve always cared. I just didn’t think you would, and I didn’t want to—I didn’t want to be disappointed.”
Something in Fredrinn’s chest cracked open. He pulled Xavier back into his arms, burying his face in his hair.
“I care so much it’s annoying,” Fredrinn mumbled. “I care so much that I bought flowers and tried to cook and set the table like we’re in some kind of romance novel. I care, Xavier.”
Xavier’s grip tightened on him. “These are perfect. The flowers, you cooking… all of it.”
“Good,” Fredrinn said. “Because I’m never doing this again. This was terrifying.
Xavier laughed—actually laughed, bright and genuine—and pulled back just enough to look at him. “Liar. You loved this.”
“I hated every second.”
“You’re going to do it again next year.”
“Absolutely not.”
“We’ll see.”
They stood there in Fredrinn’s kitchen, wrapped up in each other, the lilies watching over them like silent witnesses.
Outside, the city hummed with life and noise and the chaos of Valentine’s Day. But here, in his living room that smelled faintly of burnt bread, it was just them.
“Come on,” Fredrinn said eventually, pulling back. “Food’s getting cold. And I worked too hard on this for you to let it go to waste.”
Xavier smiled, soft and genuine and so beautiful it hurt. “Let me see this miraculous pasta, then.”
They sat down at the table, and Xavier immediately reached for the bread.
“This actually looks edible,” he said, sounding surprised.
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“The last time you cooked for me, I thought I was going to die.”
“That was one time—”
“The pasta was crunchy and soggy, Fredrinn. Simultaneously.”
“Are you going to keep bringing that up?”
“For the rest of our lives, probably.”
Fredrinn kicked him under the table, but he was smiling. Xavier kicked him back, grinning, and took a bite of the bread.
His expression shifted. “Oh. This is actually… decent.”
“Told you.”
“I’m impressed.”
“As you should be.”
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the kind of quiet that only came with knowing someone deeply. Xavier kept glancing at the lilies between bites, and every time he did, his expression softened.
“Thank you,” Xavier said eventually, his voice quiet. “For this, for tonight.”
Fredrinn reached across the table and took his hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Xavier.”
Xavier laced their fingers together, his thumb brushing over Fredrinn’s knuckles. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Fredrinn.”
They ended up on the couch after dinner, too full to move, Xavier half-draped across Fredrinn’s lap while some movie played on the TV that neither of them were really watching.
Xavier’s cats, because of course he had to bring them along, August and Willow—had made themselves at home on Fredrinn’s furniture, which happened every time Xavier came over.
Willow was curled up on the armrest, and August was sprawled across the back of the couch like he owned the place.
“Your cats are taking over my apartment,” Fredrinn said.
“They like you,” Xavier murmured, his head resting on Fredrinn’s chest. “They don’t like most people.”
“That’s because most people are smart enough not to encourage them.”
“Yet you still let them roam freely around your flat like this.”
“Well, what’s mine is yours. And what’s yours is theirs, isn’t it?”
Xavier huffed a laugh, and Fredrinn felt it more than heard it. His hand moved automatically to Xavier’s hair, fingers running through the dark strands absently.
They’d been together for eight months. Long enough to know Xavier’s weird morning routine, to stop pretending Fredrinn’s taste in movies wasn’t garbage, to realize that there was no textbook definition of love.
More often than not, it was just this—sitting on a couch, watching some lame film, with someone’s weight pressing comfortably against you.
“I really didn’t think you’d do anything for Valentine’s,” Xavier said quietly. “I wasn’t lying about that.”
“I know.”
“I just… I’ve never really had someone who cared enough to try, I guess. So it was easier to say I didn’t care either.”
Fredrinn’s hand stilled in Xavier’s hair. “Hey, look at me.”
Xavier shifted, tilting his head up to meet Fredrinn’s eyes.
“I care,” Fredrinn said firmly. “About you, about this, about stupid commercial holidays if they give me an excuse to make you happy. Got it?”
Xavier’s expression did something complicated. “…yes.”
“Good.”
Xavier leaned up and kissed him, slow and sweet, tasting like the wine they’d had with dinner. When he pulled back, he was smiling.
“You know Fray’s going to be insufferable about this, right?” Xavier said. “When he finds out the flowers worked, he’s going to hold it over your head forever.”
“Oh, absolutely. He’s probably already composing his ‘I told you so’ speech.”
“You should text him. Put him out of his misery.”
Fredrinn considered it, then reached for his phone on the coffee table. He typed out a quick message:
Fredrinn: you were right. the flowers worked. happy now?
The response came in less than thirty seconds.
Fray: I KNEW IT. i’m a genius. you’re welcome. also does this mean i’m invited to the wedding?
Fredrinn: there’s no wedding, you dramatic ass.
Fray: YET. there’s no wedding YET. i’m calling best man rights now.
Fredrinn: i hate you.
Fray: love you too. tell xavier i said hi and that he has excellent taste in boyfriends despite all evidence to the contrary.
Fredrinn showed Xavier the messages, and Xavier snorted.
“He’s not wrong.”
“Wow. Rude.”
“I’m joking.” Xavier settled back against Fredrinn’s chest, getting comfortable again. “You’re alright, I guess.”
“Just alright?”
“Fine. You’re slightly better than alright.”
“Xavier.”
“You’re good,” Xavier admitted, his voice softer now. “You’re really good, actually. Better than I deserve, probably.”
Fredrinn’s arms tightened around him. “That’s not true.”
“It feels true sometimes.”
“Well, it’s not. You’re stuck with me now, so you better get used to it.”
Xavier was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you, you know. I don’t think I’ve said that yet, but I do. I love you.”
Fredrinn’s breath caught. They’d been dancing around those words for months now, both of them too careful or too scared to say them first. But here, in the dim light of his living room with Xavier’s weight against him and the lilies still visible on the table, it felt right.
“I love you too,” Fredrinn said, and it came out easier than he’d expected. “So much. It’s honestly kind of embarrassing how much.”
Xavier laughed, the sound muffled against Fredrinn’s shirt. “Same.”
They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the movie forgotten, the world outside irrelevant. Willow jumped down from the armrest and curled up on Xavier’s lap, purring loud enough to be heard across the room.
“Your cat is purring,” Fredrinn observed.
“She likes you,” Xavier said again. “Like I said, they both do.”
“Good. I like them too.”
“Even when August knocks your stuff off counters?”
“Even then.”
Xavier tilted his head up again, and Fredrinn kissed him without thinking about it, natural as breathing.
When they broke apart, Xavier was smiling that soft, private smile that he only ever showed Fredrinn.
The lilies sat on the table, white and perfect and exactly right. They’d wilt in a week, maybe less. But that was fine, he knew where to buy more.