Lyra's apartment kitchen was a mess.
Bowls of melted chocolate, spatulas, and half-filled silicone molds cluttered every inch of counter space. The air was thick with a sweet aroma, blending with the low hum of the still-running food warmer.
In the middle of it all stood Lyra, her apron dotted with chocolate smudges, brow furrowed as she carefully poured the mixture into tiny heart-shaped molds.
Robin leaned casually against the kitchen table, arms crossed, silently watching the scene unfold in front of him. There was something ridiculously adorable about his girlfriend when she was this focused—especially with a little smudge of chocolate staining her cheek.
A sly grin curled on his lips as he walked closer.
"So… does this mean I'm not getting another birthday-level surprise?" he teased.
Without turning, Lyra sighed, "Still deciding…"
Robin arched a brow, clearly not satisfied with that answer. He stepped in behind her, arms sliding effortlessly around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Well, why not use the same method?" he murmured near her ear, voice dropping just enough to make her skin tingle. "Your cooking that night was unforgettable…"
Finally, she turned, cheeks tinged pink. "You just want me to cook for you again, don't you?"
Instead of answering, he leaned in—pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck.
"I-I'm still working, Robin…"
But he didn't back off. Chocolate could wait.
In one swift motion, he turned her toward him, pulling her close with an arm still wrapped around her waist. She was still holding the spatula, not that she could do much with it now.
Their lips met in a kiss that was slow and deep—gentle at first, but full of intent. She instinctively clutched the fabric of his shirt, her body briefly stiff before melting into his.
The kitchen didn't feel so warm anymore. She was trapped between his body and the counter now, breath uneven when they finally parted.
Her face burned, and she bit her lip, glancing away.
"Why do you still blush so easily?" he whispered near her ear, teasing.
Lyra huffed, jabbing his side with her elbow, which only made him laugh. "What was that for?"
Robin shrugged. "Couldn't help myself."
Lyra sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the still-chaotic counter. "At least let me finish the chocolates before you get handsy again…"
He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. "Mmm… no promises."
That mischievous smile again. She rolled her eyes.
"As a trade-off," he added, still grinning, "I'll help."
Lyra looked at him suspiciously. "You? Helping?"
"One hundred percent."
"You know you're hopeless in the kitchen."
He leaned in, forehead brushing hers. "I don't have to be good at it. I just need to be close to you."
Words. Gone. Her brain short-circuited.
Robin laughed softly at the look on her face.
"C'mon," he said, casually plucking the spatula from her hand. "Let me stir something or whatever."
She still looked skeptical, but eventually let out a small smile. "Fine. But don't make it worse in here."
"No promises," he said again, smirking.
And just like that, they returned to their messy chocolate-making endeavor—though Lyra knew, with him around, things were only going to get more chaotic… whether it was the kitchen, or her heart.
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He traced lazy circles on Lyra's back as they sat together on the floor, warmth settling between them in a rare moment of silence. Neither of them spoke, and neither needed to.
At least not for long.
"Do we really have to wait for the chocolates to harden?" he asked, voice low and teasing by her ear.
Lyra lifted her head and squinted at him. "What are you thinking?"
A slow grin spread across his face. "Maybe try it while it's still warm? Could taste even better."
"I really need to finish this if we still want chocolate to eat later."
Robin sighed dramatically but let her go. "Fine. I'll be good. This time."
She shot him a look. "This time?"
Instead of answering, he just chuckled and dropped into the nearest kitchen chair, slouching back like he had zero regrets. His eyes followed her every move as she returned to her chocolate molds, carefully smoothing the surface of each one. Occasionally, he stirred the remaining melted chocolate, pretending to help.
"So," he said eventually, "did you have something planned for tonight?"
Lyra paused for a beat, then glanced over her shoulder. "I thought you were the one asking me out. Shouldn't you have the plan?"
Robin grinned. "I could say the plan is to stay in and spend the night with you—but I know that'd earn me a spatula to the face."
Lyra didn't hesitate. She picked up the wooden spatula and pointed it at him with a warning look. "Glad you're aware."
He laughed softly before leaning forward against the table, the teasing in his eyes giving way to something a little more earnest.
"But seriously," he said, "I wanted to do something special. It doesn't have to be fancy… just something we'll remember."
Lyra stirred the chocolate a little slower now, her gaze unfocused. "Yeah... I was thinking the same. But honestly? I'm kinda out of ideas."
Robin gave a small nod, then smiled again. "How about this—we make our own Valentine's tradition."
She raised a brow. "Tradition?"
"Yeah. Something we do every year. Doesn't have to be complicated. Could be as simple as eating at the same place, sharing your homemade chocolates…" He paused, then added with a smirk, "Or you cooking for me again, like on my birthday."
Lyra rolled her eyes. "I knew you'd bring that up."
Robin chuckled. "Hey, it was sweet! And you know I love your cooking."
She sighed—but a small smile tugged at her lips. He wasn't lying. Robin always finished every meal she made for him, even the simpler ones.
"Hm… alright," she said at last. "Maybe I'll cook us dinner."
Both his eyebrows jumped. "Wait—seriously?"
She nodded, but raised a finger. "Only if you help. I'm not doing everything myself."
He pretended to think it over. "So I have to work now? I thought I could just sit back and wait to be fed."
One sharp look from her shut that down fast.
"Okay, okay!" he surrendered, hands raised. "I'll help, I promise. Anything for my lovely girlfriend."
Lyra smiled in triumph. "Good."
Robin watched her for a moment, then leaned his chin into his palm, voice softer now. "Y'know... this feels like my dream date."
Lyra turned, a bit caught off guard by the tone. "What do you mean?"
He looked at her, a quiet kind of warmth in his eyes. "Just being here. With you. Doing something simple. Cooking, talking, hanging out... Then dinner, just the two of us." He gave a small shrug. "I don't need anything extravagant. I just want time with you."
For a second, the kitchen actually felt warmer.
Lyra turned back to the counter, suddenly focused on her chocolate again, her cheeks heating. "Yeah," she muttered, "I feel the same."
Robin's smile deepened.
Without warning, he stood and walked over to her. Before she could react, his arms slipped around her waist again, and his chin landed gently on her shoulder.
"Robin!" she gasped, half startled.
But he just chuckled softly. "I just wanted a quick hug," he whispered. "Then I'll be good. I swear."
She sighed, but didn't pull away. "You're impossible."
His grin widened before he placed a tender kiss on her temple. "And yet, you still like me."
She didn't answer.
But she didn't argue either.
Their first Valentine's wasn't glamorous—but it was theirs. Messy, sweet, and full of little moments that would linger much longer than the chocolates. With celebration or no, fancy or simple, this was already shaping up to be something neither of them would forget.
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Campus was a bit busier than usual. Pink ribbons hung along the halls, cheesy heart-shaped cutouts taped to windows. A few students strolled by with flower bouquets or boxes of chocolate like they were straight out of a rom-com.
It was warm and cheerful—well, outside.
Inside one of the almost-empty student council rooms, a girl with dark brown hair let her head fall onto the table with a long, dramatic sigh.
"Finally done," she mumbled, dead-tired.
Across the room, a guy in glasses was still tidying up some papers. He glanced over. "You talk like you just survived a war. It was just a sponsor report."
The girl sat up with a pout, half her hair tied up and slightly askew. "Hey, don't underestimate other people's suffering. That format guideline was ridiculous."
Instead of arguing, he just shrugged and slipped the last document into a folder. "Got plans after this, Mei?" he asked, pushing up his glasses.
She scoffed. "Valentine's plans? Please. I wouldn't even know it was today if the campus didn't look like a pink explosion."
He gave her a quick look. "Seriously?"
"What? Yeah. Why?"
She rested her chin on her palm, eyes narrowing at him.
Adam didn't answer right away. He reached into his bag, pulled out a small dark brown box, and set it on the table between them.
She blinked. "What's that?"
"Chocolate."
She stared at it. Then at him. "For who?"
"You."
Pause. Blink. Then laughter. "Wait—are you being serious right now?"
Adam didn't even flinch. "I got a bunch from the event sponsors. This one's just... extra."
Mei narrowed her eyes, trying to read him—but of course, his expression was the same unreadable neutral. "So you're giving it to me because you have leftovers?" Skepticism was thick in her voice.
He nodded. "Do you want it or not?"
She sighed, then grabbed it. "If it's free, I'm not saying no."
She popped the box open, picked out a small piece, and took a bite. "Mm. Not bad. Kinda fancy."
Adam said nothing, just watched her with that almost-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Then he glanced at his watch. "If you've got nothing else going on, I'm heading out."
She swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "You got plans?"
He shrugged. "Nah. Just wanna go home and sleep."
She snorted. "Classic you."
He turned to leave, but paused at the door. Then, without saying anything else, he walked back over and gently ruffled her hair.
"Don't stay up too late," he said, and just like that, he was gone.
Mei froze.
...Did that just happen?
Her heart skipped. Just a little. Nothing major. Right?
She exhaled slowly and looked down at the box in her hands. Even if he said it was just some extra from the sponsors, something about it felt… different.
Crap. Why did her chest feel weird?
She shook her head and stood.
"Dork," she muttered—but there was a tiny smile on her face as she walked out of the room.
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The med school building was as busy as ever. Valentine's Day wasn't a holiday, but there was still a noticeable shift in the air. Some students joked about who scored the most chocolates, a few professors received small gifts from their favorites, and someone had even left a free box of chocolates in the break room—a sweet gesture from one of the more generous staff members.
But in the middle of it all, a young man in a lab coat—with the sleeves half-rolled up—was buried in his notes, completely oblivious. He hadn't even realized what day it was until someone brought it up that morning.
"Hey, Arlo. No one gave you chocolate?" a girl with a high ponytail teased, leaning over to get a look at his face.
He didn't look up. Just shrugged. "Don't really care."
"Oh, come on. You're pretty popular in our class. Or are you hiding a secret admirer?"
"Nope," he said, casually flipping a page, still writing as if she wasn't there.
She laughed under her breath. "You're so cold. Though honestly, I can't picture you celebrating Valentine's anyway."
Another shrug. To him, it was just another day. If he had any free time, he'd much rather use it catching up on sleep or reading a medical journal than worrying about flowers or chocolate.
But later, when he finally stepped into the break room to grab some water, something caught his eye.
Right there on his desk—half-buried under a pile of notebooks and the stethoscope he'd dropped off that morning—sat a small brown box.
No name. No decoration. Just a folded scrap of paper with messy handwriting:
Eat something sweet. You look malnourished.
His brow furrowed.
He reached for it almost on instinct, flipping the lid open just a crack. Homemade chocolates. A little messy, but... honestly? They looked good.
He let out a quiet breath.
Who left this?
Whoever it was clearly didn't want to be found out—but still, the curiosity stuck like a splinter under the skin.
Could've been a classmate messing around. Maybe one of the nurses who always joked with him. Or...
For some reason, an image popped into his head—of a girl with long hair, bangs framing her face, and those ridiculous little ribbons she liked to wear.
"No way," he muttered.
But without meaning to, the corner of his mouth twitched up.
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Nelson never really cared about Valentine's Day.
For someone who preferred juggling assignments and helping his friends with their academic messes, it was just another Tuesday. The only real difference was how the campus looked—a little louder, a little pinker, flowers and chocolates scattered just about everywhere.
He'd watched his friends run around making last-minute plans for their partners, overheard conversations about candlelit dinners, even got invited to a few double dates—which he turned down without a second thought.
It wasn't that he hated Valentine's. It just... didn't interest him.
Besides, what couple wanted a third wheel tagging along on their romantic night out?
So, without much thought, he spent his day like always—finishing work, explaining concepts to people who didn't get them, and camping out in the faculty study lounge. It wasn't exciting, but it was comfortable.
Until he returned to his seat and found something waiting for him.
Sitting neatly between his laptop and textbooks was a small pouch tied with a simple red ribbon. It wasn't flashy, but it stood out enough to make him pause.
His brows knit together as he spotted a small folded note tucked inside.
For Nelson. I owe you more than I can say.Thank you for being kind.
His fingers instinctively flipped the paper over, looking for a name, an initial—anything.Nothing.
He stared at the pouch for a second longer before picking it up, turning it over carefully like it might reveal a secret if he looked hard enough.
"Nelson, did someone give you chocolate?" a voice called out from across the room.
He turned. "Yeah."
"Oooh, secret admirer?" someone teased.
He let out a quiet sigh. "Beats me."
Still, his gaze drifted back to the note in his hand.
The handwriting felt... familiar.
It wasn't like this had never happened before. Nelson was the kind of guy who helped people without asking for anything in return—breaking down complex material after class, taking over someone's cleaning duty when they forgot, even lending his umbrella on rainy days.
It could've come from anyone.
But who?
He scanned the room subtly. Everyone was busy with their own thing. No one looked remotely suspicious, and no one was watching him.
Nelson let out a quiet breath. "This is... weird," he muttered to himself.
But instead of leaving the chocolate on the table—or throwing it away—he gently tucked it into his bag.
No intention of ignoring it. And definitely no intention of forgetting it.
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*** TO BE CONTINUE ***