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You walked on the way to school, humming a song to yourself. Along the way, you saw sweet couples here and there, exchanging flowers, chocolates, and letters or whatever it was they were doing. You didn't pay much attention—shrugging it off—and kept on walking.
By the time you reached the school gates, the scene had practically multiplied, everyone seemed to be buying and exchanging flowers, chocolates, and letters, just like the couples you saw on your way. You didn't think much of it, assuming it must be a person they know celebrating a birthday or something, and continued on toward your classroom.
When you arrived, you found a bouquet of flowers, boxes of chocolate, and a note on your desk. You turned to your seatmate—Elle—who was reading a book and asked, “Uh? Who put these here?”
She didn't look up from her book, too immersed in reading to even spare you a glance. “Dunno. Those were already there when I got here.”
“Huh.. Really?” you ask, pulling out your chair, sitting on it.
“Yep.”
“Do you at least have any idea who it might be?”
“Nope. You must have a secret admirer or something.”
You sighed and hung your bag on the hook beside your desk before picking up the note and reading it.
It says:
‘Didn't know what you liked so I bought these for you. Don't share it with anyone. These shit’s for you only, sunshine.’
Sunshine? Seriously? Ugh.. okay, whatever. Don't share it with anyone. Sounds ominous.. Got it, Mr. Loverboy. You rolled your eyes, huffing as you carefully tucked the note in your bag.
You ran a hand through your hair, groaning as you tried to guess who gave you these gifts. Actually.. What is even going on today? It's not your birthday or anything. People buying and giving chocolates, flowers, and other cutesy things to somebody.. Hey, wait a second.
You took out your phone from your pocket, opened it and saw the date.
‘February 13th.’
“.. Oh. That's why.” You whispered to yourself, putting your phone down on your desk. Then, you just realized something. If today's the thirteenth of february, then.. tomorrow is february fourteen.. Valentine's day.
“Oh my god!” You exclaim—startling Elle beside you. “What am I going to get him tomorrow?” You mutter to yourself, running a hand down your face, trying to think of something to get him. You groaned again in frustration.
"What's up with you now?” Elle asked, looking up from her book after you had startled her.
“I didn't even realize it was the thirteenth today, and I have no idea what to get him!” you groaned, dropping your head on your desk with a soft thump. “And I'm supposed to confess tomorrow too!”
Elle chuckled. “Oof.. tough luck.”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” you muttered, glaring at her.
“Who are you confessing to, anyway?”
You stiffened, cheeks warming at the thought. “.. No one. It's none of your business, Elle. Just— keep reading!”
The bell rang, signalling the start of classes. Groans rippled across the classroom as students scrambled back into their seats, hurriedly shoving chocolates and letters into bags and desks. You straightened up just in time as the door slid open.
“Good morning,” the teacher—Ms. Lee—said, stepping inside with a stack of papers under their arm. Their eyes swept across the room, lingering briefly on the flowers scattered here and there. “I see everyone's in a festive mood today.”
A few people laughed. Someone muttered, “Tomorrow’s Valentine's day.”
“I noticed,” Ms. Lee replied dryly. “Save the romance for after class.”
As Ms. Lee began her class, you stared at the bouquet on your desk, thinking about who might have put that there along with the chocolates and the letter. You don't know a single person who might call you ‘sunshine’ or have you heard anyone call you that.
You discreetly grabbed your phone from your desk—hiding it underneath the table—and looked up online: ‘What to give on Valentine's day?’ Results came up immediately—flowers? What if he might find it dumb? Chocolates? What if he doesn't like sweets? Letters? Too basic.
You spent over 10 minutes searching for what boys could possibly like, and still haven't found a single thing. Well, this is annoying. You like him, but you don't even know what he likes.
By the time the final bell rang, your head hurt from overthinking more than from actually paying attention in class. You slung your bag over your shoulder, the bouquet and chocolates in your hands.
You didn’t remember much of the walk home—only the weight of your bag on your shoulder, the gifts in your hands, and the way your thoughts refused to slow down.
Does he like stuffed bears? Does he like candies? Does he like keychains? Does he like flowers? Does he like handwritten letters? Does he like—
You groaned for the umpteenth time today, taking out your keys—inserting them into the keyhole, and pushing the door open. You kicked off your shoes, put your stuff down on the floor, and collapsed onto the couch in the living room, staring up at the ceiling—still very much overthinking.
The front door opened—revealing your twin brother, Jake. When he stepped inside, he immediately noticed the gifts on the floor.
“Who gave you those?” He questioned, kicking off his shoes, and putting his backpack on the floor beside the coffee table. “Can I have some?” He points at the boxes of chocolates, picking them up on the floor—putting them on the kitchen table—also the flowers.
You shrugged. “I have no idea either.. They even attached a note that said not to share the chocolates with anyone.”
“So?” He raised a brow at you. “I’ve known you since birth more than your anonymous admirer. These looks expensive,”
“Ugh.. shut up..” You mumbled , then sat upright, thinking of something. “Hey, Jake.” you say, standing up and pacing around the room.
“What?”
“What should I get him? Since you're a boy, you might have an idea.”
“Uh—Who?” he asked, unwrapping one of the chocolates and taking a bite out, then another.
“You know—him. Who else would it be?”
He paused, still chewing. “.. I don't.. know?”
“Oh my god. It's Wolf, Jake. Wolf,” You blurted out.
Jake lets out a small ‘oh’ reaching for yet another piece of chocolate. “Honestly? No idea. It's Wolf—he's always unpredictable. Plus, he's your silly crush, not mine.”
“You're not helping.”
“Wasn't planning to.” He shrugged. “Just get him cigarettes, you know how much he loves those—he smokes like it's his oxygen.”
“Whatever.” You grab your bag from the floor, and the bouquet of flowers from the table. “I'm going to my room—don’t eat all of those or I'll burn your stuff!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waved you off, continuing on eating.
You closed your bedroom door and tossed your bag onto the bed, carefully setting the flowers into a vase you've never used—until now.
Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you let out a sigh. “I can do this tomorrow.. right?” You murmured, pressing a hand to your chest where your heart thumped, feeling the ba-dum, ba-dum rhythm. “Yeah.. definitely.. maybe.”
Taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself in your reflection again and began to practice. “Wolf Keum… I’ve liked you ever since the first time we met—after school, in the pouring rain.” You paused, then continued. “You took off your blazer and put it over my head without a second thought, even though you were completely soaked yourself. That meant more to me than I can explain.”
Your voice softened. “After that, I started noticing you everywhere around campus, and I just… wanted you to know how I feel. I’m not asking you to feel the same. I just wanted to be honest—and I hope you won’t take this the wrong way. Or, uh… jump me later.”
You swallowed. “I like you, Wolf. A lot.”
February 14th.
The next day, you were nervous—really nervous. You hadn’t gotten Wolf much of anything, just a tiger keychain you’d grabbed in a panic. He seemed to like tigers, judging by how often he wore his favorite brand—KANZO—with the tiger prints all over it. Cigarettes were out of the question anyway—you were seventeen, not about to get arrested on top of being rejected.
How on earth did he manage to get some anyway? Oh. Right. He's Wolf Keum—he gets everything his way. Whatever, that'll be a question for next time.
By the time you got to school, your palms were sweaty and your head was spinning. You couldn’t focus on anything—not the chatter around you, not the lockers slamming shut, not the lovey-dovey couples everywhere. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going and nearly kissed a wall.
Nice. Definitely not embarrassing.
Your fingers tightened around the tiger keychain, fidgeting with it as you took slow, shaky breaths.
Okay. Find Wolf. Confess. Easy. Very easy.
..
It was, in fact, not easy.
You stopped near the corner of the hallway, eyes scanning the crowd. Too tall. Too short. Wrong hair. Definitely not—
Your heart leapt.
Is that him?
No. False alarm. You exhaled, shoulders dropping—only to tense up again a second later.
Why was your heart doing this? You swallowed and forced yourself to keep walking. “If I don’t do this now, I never will,” you muttered, trying to hype yourself up.
Where was the confidence you had yesterday? God, Wolf Keum had seriously messed with your head.
After several minutes of searching, you finally found Wolf on the rooftop—leaning against the railing, cigarette between his fingers, smoke drifting lazily into the air.
Of course he was smoking.
You swallowed and forced your feet to move, every step feeling heavier than the last. By the time you stopped a few feet away from him, your heart was practically trying to escape your chest.
“Wolf.?”
He turned to face you, eyes settling on yours as smoke curled between you. “What,” he said simply, sharp and straight to the point. That nearly made you back out right there.
“I—I, um..” You fidgeted with the hem of your blazer's sleeve, looking at anywhere but him. “I need to tell you something.”
He didn’t respond. Just watched you.
Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath. “I—this is really stupid, but—” Your voice cracked, and you winced. Great, just great. Perfect. “I just wanted to say that I… that I—”
The words felt stuck, lodged somewhere between your heart and your mouth.
“I like you,” you blurted out at last, barely above a whisper. The long confession you had worked on yesterday died down your throat.
Silence. Awkward silence. You want to jump off the rooftop right now. Wolf didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. His expression stayed completely unreadable.
Your stomach dropped.
Oh. Okay. Yeah. Rejected. That's.. fine.
The quiet stretched on, thick and unbearable. You were painfully aware of your own heartbeat, pounding so loudly you swore he could hear it too.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
He still didn’t say a word.
Your chest tightens, embarrassment flooding in hot and fast. “Um—okay,” you rushed out. “You don’t have to say anything. Just—just forget it. Forget I even said anything, seriously. I didn’t mean to—”
You turned on your heel, face burning, already regretting every life choice that led you up to this rooftop.
Before you could leave—he grabs one of your wrists—spun you around to face him again, and pressed his lips against yours. You let out a soft gasp, heat rushing to your cheeks and ears. Your entire face felt like it had caught fire.
When he finally pulled away, he looked at your flustered face, and.. laughed. Full-on amused laughter.
Oh. My. God. You wanted to die there and then. Why isn't he saying anything? This is mortifying. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—and turned to leave again, but he held your wrist firmly, but not enough to hurt. “Why are you so red?” he asked, grinning like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. “Oh my god… you look like a tomato. I like you too.”
Your brain immediately short-circuited. “Wait— wait— really.?” you stammered, still bright pink, heart thundering in your chest.
He nodded, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “Who do you think gave you the bouquet, and chocolates? I even made a note.” Then, as if he couldn’t resist, he ruffled your hair and pressed another quick, teasing peck to your lips.
“That… that—was you!?” you gasped, covering your mouth in shock.
“Who else could it be?” He grinned, leaning casually against the railing. “Dang… if I’d known you liked me and were planning to confess, I would’ve taken a video of that nervous speech,” he laughed, clearly savoring the moment. “That was hilarious.”
“You’re such an—ugh—idiot. I hope you trip and break your face,” you shot back, cheeks burning, hands flailing like they had a mind of their own.
He leaned closer, voice teasing. “Yeah… but you’d miss my handsome face.”
“…Fair enough,” you muttered, heat still climbing your cheeks. “Ah, wait,” you added quickly, fumbling a little as you handed him the tiger keychain. “I didn’t know what to get you… Jake said cigarettes, but I can’t buy them. Actually—how’d you even get some?”
He took the keychain, examining it with mock seriousness. “I like this. Now I have something to remember you by.” He clipped it onto his belt loop, still grinning. “And don’t worry your pretty little head about where or how I got my ciggy.” he says as he patted your head. He nudged you gently toward the door. “Come on, sunshine. I’m taking you out today.”
“Wait—I'm—We’re skipping?” you stammered, eyes wide.
He hummed, tugging you along with a teasing grin. “I’ll buy you whatever you want. Come on.”
As you stepped off the rooftop and into the lively streets, you felt your heartbeat finally start to slow… not from nerves, but from how absurdly light and reckless everything suddenly felt.
“Wait,” you said, slowing your pace, “where are we even going?”
He glanced down at you, his smirk teasing, but eyes soft. “Does it matter?”
You groaned, half-annoyed, half-amused, and let yourself be pulled along. Somehow, you knew this wouldn’t be a “perfect date” like in those cheesy romcom movies or novels. There’d probably be teasing, maybe even a drink or two spilled along the way. But honestly? You didn’t care. Because it didn’t have to be perfect. It just had to be memorable.