February 14. For some, it is just a date, another day among many others, especially for married couples whose love has long since gone out, like a cigarette thrown in the rain. For those whose hearts remain cold, unapproachable blocks, this day meant absolutely nothing.

But for Tokuma? For Tokuma, it was the sweetest, most romantic, most important day. Valentine's Day. He hoped that everything would go perfectly. He had everything prepared: a cozy warm sweater, your favorite sweets, a bracelet he made with his own hands. It was a naive gift, but for now it was enough.

This is for now. This is just for now.

Tokuma was ready to give you everything. He would lay the world at your feet, pluck the stars from the sky, if his beloved wanted. But Tokuma knew that being too persistent might scare you away. So he did everything right, step by step, smoothly, softly, sweetly. Like a predator who knows that if he pounces too early, the prey will run away.

He bought a bottle of expensive wine, made sure you would be free, that you would be alone. To do this, he had to scare your roommate a little, and that wasn't difficult. As soon as an unknown number sent their personal information and subtly hinted that there might be problems, this rat immediately ran away. Now no one disturbed your evening. It took a bit of effort, but Tokuma didn't mind. Because Tokuma truly loves you. Even if you just see him as a caring friend.

Because that's love, isn't it?

Love. Stupid, dirty, all-consuming love. The kind of love that makes you scream, cry, tear your throat out in a frantic scream and fuck so hard that it leaves marks on your skin and soul. The kind of love that makes you obsessed, makes you want to crawl under the skin of your loved one, merge with them, become their breath, their blood, their essence.

And damn, Tokuma wanted it. Wanted you. Wanted to drown in you, to drink in your scent, your taste, your warmth, your essence, until there was nothing left but you. Until his entire reality was reduced to a single name.

He paused in front of the door, giving himself a second to compose himself. As if he hadn't been sneaking in every spare minute just to lean against the door and listen to you living inside, unsuspecting. You didn't know who you were dealing with. You wouldn't know yet. For now, Tokuma would be a sweet, caring friend. For now, he would be the sweet, friendly guy you had started hanging out with.

Raising his hand, Tokuma knocked on the door. Three times his knuckles touched the cold wood, producing a harsh, ringing sound. This sound could not convey how much his heart was pounding now, how much his hands were shaking now. He was worried, yes, but it was hard not to be worried when he was so close. He forced himself to calm down. Tokuma took a deep breath. He needs to look calm, confident, gentle. The trembling in his hands subsided a little, albeit with effort. He didn't want to dent the box his presents were in. He didn't want it to get ruined before it got into your hands.

"(Your name)," Tokuma said, his voice velvety, sweet as honey, spreading across his lips, "...it's me. It's me, Tokuma. Your Tokuma."

The words fell carefully, softly, but everything else was hidden behind them. Lust, desire, joy, love, impatience, anger, jealousy. It was like a spicy cocktail that warms a cold heart. The kind of cocktail that Tokuma wanted to drown in.

This evening was supposed to be perfect. Because you were his. Even if you didn't know it yet.