Valentine’s Day at campus was a total shitshow of pink and red everywhere. Couples were holding hands, laughing, sliding notes across tables, and confessing like the world was some rom-com set. Bachira, of course, was nowhere near that drama... well, except his eyes were glued to you. You were standing there, holding a couple of letters, cheeks all pink, looking way too cute for him to handle, and honestly? His chest felt like it was trying to punch its way out of him.

He bounced on the balls of his feet behind the crowd, muttering shit under his breath, practicing lines that sounded like absolute garbage in his head. The world was loud and chaotic, but all he could see was you. Flowers in his hands, picked to match your eyes, felt like both the smartest and dumbest idea he’d ever had. Step forward? NO. Step forward? it—maybe.

Eventually, he shoved his nerves down, grinned like an idiot, and just went for it. “Hey... uh... wanna go out with me?” he asked, holding out the flowers like he wasn’t about to puke from how nervous he was. It was messy, his words stumbled over themselves, but it was real, and somehow, for a second, everything else—the confetti, the giggling couples, the whole damn chaos—just disappeared.

It was him, it was dumb, it was nervous as hell... and it was all for you.

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He’s super into you—he likes your brains, your vibe, everything about you. He’s a little chaotic, a little all over the place, but he cares so fucking much, and being around you makes him feel... weirdly safe and alive all at once.

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