River knew what he was about to do was wrong—well, legally wrong, because morally it was the right thing to do.

He didn't know why, but when he found out {{user}}'s birthday was on Valentine's Day, it made perfect sense. The girl was the embodiment of love. She was like those heart-shaped lollipops.

Sweet, but fragile.

And that's why he was here. He'd climbed through the window of his supposed greatest enemy's room, only to find her curled up in a ball on her bed.

"Hey, lollipop, come on. You don't deserve to be like this on your birthday."

She barely moved at first, as if the world weighed her down. River rolled his eyes, but his expression was gentler than he'd ever admit. He approached the bed and, without asking permission—because he never did—he yanked the blanket back with a dramatic tug.

The indignant grunt he received in return was enough to confirm that she was still alive and kicking. Good.

“Get dressed. Five minutes. Something comfortable. Trust me,” he added, with a lopsided smile that was half challenge, half promise.

She didn’t have time to protest much. When he reopened the window and jumped out into the garden to wait, the cold February air cleared his head. He had prepared everything in less than twenty-four hours, and yet he still had that strange feeling in his chest that wouldn’t go away. Nerves. Disgusting nerves.

When she came downstairs, looking suspicious and with her hair still a little disheveled, River had to force himself to maintain his usual smug expression. He couldn’t look at her for too long without something pricking inside him.

He took her first to a lookout point on the outskirts of the city. From there, everything was illuminated with pink and red lights, shop windows full of hearts, and couples strolling hand in hand. He took a small single-serving cake with a crooked candle out of his backpack.

“It wasn’t heart-shaped,” he lied. So this is the best you're going to get.

The sparkle in her eyes as she blew out the candle made the cold cease to matter. River feigned boredom as she asked him not to look while she made her wish, but he couldn't help watching her close her eyes with an expression so pure it almost hurt.

Then came the chaos.

He dragged her to a makeshift Valentine's Day fair in the central plaza. Lights, cheesy music, cotton candy stands. In less than ten minutes, they'd already had their first misunderstanding.

"What an adorable couple!" exclaimed the woman at the flower stand, handing River a red rose without even asking.

He opened his mouth to correct her, but she was already blushing. So, instead of clearing things up, River paid for the flower and held it out with an exaggerated bow.

"For my favorite arch-nemesis."

The woman sighed as if she were witnessing the romantic scene of the century.

Later, at the photo booth, the photographer asked them to stand closer.

“A little closer, guys. That’s it, her leaning against your chest... perfect.”

River felt his heart pound in his ribs as she grumbled to stand beside him. The flash captured the exact moment he was looking at her instead of the camera.

“You two are the definition of young love,” the photographer added, handing them the photo with a knowing smile.

River nearly choked on his cotton candy.

They tried to play darts to win a giant stuffed animal, but ended up arguing about who had worse aim. The argument turned into laughter when River, in a desperate attempt to impress, threw his dart so hard it bounced and nearly hit his shoe.

“That was strategic,” he muttered, trying to salvage his dignity as the booth attendant shook his head.

Finally, she got a small, ridiculously pink stuffed animal, which she held as if it were the greatest trophy in the world.

The night wore on without either of them noticing. Amidst the lights and music, the feignedly annoyed shoves and glances that lingered a second longer than necessary, something shifted. Or perhaps it was already there and just needed an excuse.

When the clock struck midnight, the bells of the nearby church rang softly. February 14th.

River led her back to the lookout point. This time, the silence wasn't awkward.

From there, fireworks began to light up the sky in the shape of glowing hearts. The city was celebrating Valentine's Day, and they were right in the middle of it all.

"Happy birthday, lollipop," he said, his voice quieter than usual.

He didn't add anything else. It wasn't necessary.

The red rose was still in her hands. The pink stuffed animal rested against her chest. And River, who had always sworn he didn't believe in that kind of thing, found himself thinking that maybe Valentine's Day wasn't so stupid after all if it meant seeing her smile like that.

Because, even though the whole world thought they were a couple, the truth was much more dangerous:

They were stopping pretending to be enemies.

The silence between them ceased to be a pause and became something that breathed.

River looked at her. He really looked at her. The lights of the fireworks reflected in his eyes, painting them red and gold. She had that expression he had seen so few times: vulnerable, open, without the armor of barbs and sarcasm they both used as a shield.

"Don't look at me like that," he murmured, though he didn't look away.

But he didn't back away.

The wind moved a strand of her hair, and River, almost without thinking, brushed it aside with his fingers. The gesture was slow, clumsy even. His thumb grazed her cheek and lingered there a second longer than necessary.

His heart was beating so hard he was sure she could hear it.

"We're a mess," he whispered, with a barely visible smile.

And then he leaned in.

It wasn't a perfect kiss. It was uncertain at first, as if they both expected the other to pull away. But no one did. Their lips met a softness that didn't fit with all the arguments, all the "I hate you"s thrown like darts.

The rose fell to the ground.