Aiba remembers the last seven Valentine's Days with distinct clarity.
The first February 14th after she joined the company, she'd surprised and delighted him by coming to his desk first thing in the morning and handing him a box of chocolates. She was visibly unsure and formal, bowing slightly, head lowered, offering the box with both hands. The chocolates were store-bought, but high quality, encased in deep red wrapping. Aiba accepted them, feeling like the king of the world.
This high lasted for about twenty minutes, until he saw her stop another co-worker in the hallway and go through the exact same routine. Then, with every subsequent repetition, his mood eventually soured to the point that he ended up kicking the vending machine when it failed to deliver his midday can of soda with enough haste.
The next six Valentine's Days were no more than a bunch of variations on that same theme. The foolish hope, the expected red box, the numerous identical boxes, the dreaded confirmation: obligatory chocolate again. The only thing that was any different now was the way in which the chocolate was offered. No more stiff, formal, high school awkwardness. Now she just dropped the box on his desk as she walked past.
"Happy Valentine's Day, dummy," she'd said one year, when she'd been in particularly high spirits.
Then she winked over her shoulder before settling down at her own desk, and it had left Aiba with a warm feeling all over. They were just friends, it was true, but they were friends. Good friends; friends who could joke around with each other; friends who insulted each other like it was a squeeze of the hand. Friends with the capacity to... grow.
Except, of course, he then got to overhear her conversation with Akiko as they headed out together for lunch.
"As long as we go somewhere with lots of coffee. I was up half the night making those chocolates for Atsuhito and I'm seriously about to fall asleep right now."
Atsuhito? When had she-? But she'd just broken up with-! That wasn't fair! It had been Aiba's turn! He'd just been waiting for the right time, that was all. And now this Atsuhito joker had just waltzed in and stolen his homemade chocolate from the woman he loved!
Aiba had sighed and banged his head down on the desk. Damn it.
He remembers the last seven Valentine's Days with distinct clarity, and the memories are bittersweet at best.
But now, as he stands to accept his eighth Valentine's chocolate from her, blushing and shuffling as she is, even more awkward than that first time, he can't help but think back on those years fondly.
Because every disappointment, every frustrated expectation, every feeling of inadequacy, every moment of his heart screaming in his chest for him to just tell her, just tell her and ruin it already, break the friendship before it breaks you... Every one of those painful, embarrassing things lay behind him, a trail of roadblocks that he had to pass to be able to stand here in this moment.
"So, uh. Here." She thrusts the box at him, unromantic and uncomfortable.
And the box isn't a deep red like all the others. It isn't decorated with gold trim and pictures of hearts. It's just plain white cardboard, held closed with pink ribbon. The chocolates inside are uneven in shape and size, and it's a 50/50 chance that they're even edible, but to Aiba they're perfect. Worth the wait.
There's no one else in the office yet, so he hesitates for only a second or two before pulling her into his arms for a quick, tight hug. She goes with it, her hands finding his jacket lapels and clutching at them as she presses her face into his chest. They both enjoy the warmth for as long as they dare, then pull back to a respectable distance, though the charged air between them feels anything but respectable.
"Happy Valentine's Day, dummy," Aiba says, voice thick with eight years' worth of emotion. "Let's go out for dinner tonight."
His unbroken record of bad Valentine's luck ends today. Aiba has been hoarding January's paycheck, has tightened February's food budget, anticipating the look on her face when he tells her where they will be dining tonight.
He isn't disappointed.
Her eyes blow up, big and round, and her hand actually comes up to her mouth as it forms the words, "But it's so expensive!"
"Nothing but the best for my girlfriend," Aiba replies, hoping she doesn't notice how pink his ears must be right now, or how his voice still wavers over the word girlfriend.
They go straight after work.
It's a very traditional restaurant, with long, narrow tatami rooms. They are shown to their table for two, seperated from the rest of the room by a wooden folding screen. On the other side, there is a much longer table, probably waiting for an entire party of company workers, celebrating some big milestone at work or something. For the moment, though, the room belongs to her and Aiba alone.
"It's so beautiful," she says with genuine admiration. "But it has such a cozy atmosphere, too."
"Maybe we should be taking notes for work," Aiba suggests, smiling. "Or maybe we should just-"
The rest of the sentence trails off into nothing as the sliding doors open and an entire army of businessmen and women piles in. That by itself is nothing remarkable, but two of the party slipping off their shoes by the entrance are very striking.
"...Koichi?"
Aiba's head snaps around. He doesn't think she's aware that she said that aloud. But what's done is done, and the tall, suited man whose face Aiba hated before it was even in style turns to look their way.
"Oh. It's you." Ice cold voice.
The woman beside Koichi is number 2 on Aiba's "Do Not Like" list, and the little smirk she sends over makes his blood start bubbling.
As dramatic as this set-up is, it ultimately comes to nothing. After that meagre acknowledgement, nothing more is exchanged. Aiba's date is allowed to continue, safe and semi-hidden behind the folding screen.
But she's lost her appetite. It's obvious, by the way she places her chopsticks down after every bite. Yet there is little conversation. The party on the other side is loud and jolly, and every time Koichi's voice can be heard, distinct from the rest, she flinches and lowers her head more and more.
Eventually, she says, "I'm just going to the bathroom," and leaves.
Aiba sits and waits for all of thirty seconds before getting up and following her down the corridor. He's not surprised to find her, instead of in the bathroom, simply standing a little way down the hall. Probably trying to compose herself. He's almost afraid to see her face; not sure he can stand to see her crying over that man again.
So instead of turning her around, he simply comes up behind and wraps his arms around her. She startles and goes stiff.
"I'll make you happy," Aiba says, pressing his face against the back of her neck. "I'll make you a hundred times happier than he would've. I swear."
Slowly, she pulls away and turns in his loosened embrace. Surprisingly, she isn't crying. Her face is unreadable. She reaches out with a fragile hand...
...and flicks him on the forehead.
"Duuummy. You already do."
She smiles. It's small, but real. Driven by the urge to see it grow, Aiba leans in and kisses her. It's chaste at first, but matures quickly. He presses his tongue into her mouth, and she responds with just as much wanton enthusiasm.
Suddenly remembering where they are, they both break away with comically synchronized timing. Then they laugh.
"How about we go get a couple of burgers and go sit in the park?" Aiba suggests.
She looks grateful, and guilty. "That sounds wonderful. I'm sorry your perfect Valentine's night was ruined."
"What are you talking about?" Aiba laughs incredulously. "You're here with me. It is perfect."
She blushes. "H-how do you just say stuff like that?" Still, the smile on her lips remains, even when she has to step back into the tatami room to grab her handbag.
She and Aiba head out into the night, and link arms without even thinking about it. And later, as they sit on a park bench in the freezing cold, pressed into each other's side and eating cheap hamburger, it strikes Aiba all over again.
And once again he simply has to marvel at what a lucky man he is.
-END-