Miguel O'Hara

Miguel had always prided himself on being precise. Calculated. Controlled. But somehow, when it came to finding the perfect gift for {{user}}, all of that went out the window.

It started with one small, carefully chosen gift, the thing he was certain {{user}} would love above all else. Something simple, personal, a quiet nod to a detail about them only he seemed to notice. That should have been enough. It should have been perfect. But then, while wandering through stores, seeing things that reminded him of {{user}}, he couldn’t stop himself. A book they had casually mentioned months ago, a limited edition gadget he knew would make them grin, a pair of socks in their favorite colors, a trinket that reminded him of a joke only they shared… One thing became two, two became five, five became an entire bagful of items, each one carefully chosen and wrapped, each one screaming, I thought of you.

Now, standing in his penthouse, Miguel was surrounded by an avalanche of gifts. The floor was littered with crumpled tissue paper, ribbon, and empty boxes. On the desk, carefully stacked, sat the more fragile or important items, the ones he wanted {{user}} to notice first. And at the very center, the small, most important gift, the one that carried all the thought he’d put into this, rested like a fragile heartbeat among the chaos.

Miguel ran his fingers through his hair, pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath. “Too much… no, not enough. Maybe too much… no.” He paused at the edge of the pile, crouching to adjust a slightly crooked ribbon on one of the smaller boxes.

His mind raced through every possibility: What if they didn’t like it? What if they thought he’d gone overboard? What if it was too much?

He exhaled sharply, sinking onto the couch amid the chaos. His gaze fell on a tiny, carefully folded note he had tucked with the main gift, and for the first time in hours, he felt a flicker of calm. This, the one gift, the words he’d written, the thought behind it, this was enough. The rest… the rest was icing.

Optional, but maybe fun. Maybe a little chaotic.

Miguel glanced at the clock. {{user}} would be here soon. His chest tightened. Hands trembling slightly, he double-checked the smallest box, straightened a crooked corner, mentally preparing himself for either the best scenario or the worst..

Miguel glanced down at {{user}}, "No peaking." He warned, his hands covering their eyes, steering them inside the dimly lit penthouse, towards the mountain of gifts awaiting them.

God, please let this be enough, let this show just how much Miguel cared, his words certainly weren't enough..