It wasnât quite clear how it managed to get there, but a box bearing Danteâs name sat waiting for him. A note, only the size of a post - it note, was any clue ( or lack thereof ) to who had delivered it.
Happy Valentineâs Day, Dante.
A blue paper rose, built with care and attached to a wire stem that could be bent and posed as Dante chose. A flower that would never wilt, in a colour that never managed to fade no matter where he took it; such was the power of such a heartfelt gift, even when giver did not yet recall why they had felt such a strong need to leave it.
[ - definitely not @fearlesscxptain ]
(Absolutely not @fearlesscxptain )
Once upon a time, this had been a day of utter fascination.
Damien had grown up in a loveless family. Discovering the concept of a day dedicated to a romantic couple was bizarre and a rather new concept in society. It was only in university that he got to see what exactly happened second-hand.
As an adult, while still caught up in the strings of the family, he tried to appreciate the meaning of the day more. He would try and spend a little time with those he cared about in the days leading up to it - the Gang were usually busy with their own matters on the day, and Damien knew better than to interrupt that. He might try and spend the day with a dear friend, sitting in a café by the window to watch people hurry by.
("That couple look like they've only started going out."
"Walking a dog to hide the fact they're holding hands? Very clever."
"Oh no! That man just tripped and nearly dropped his flowers!")
Did he try and do something more to be properly involved with the meaning of Valentine's Day? It was hard to say. The memories were a little frayed at the edges when it came to the happiest of moments.
-
Now, Dante kept to himself. It was on a Valentine's Day that he tried to rescue someone. It was the day he was scarred, and so he preferred to keep a distance from everyone. He had exams to study for - and not even Wilford's note questioning if law was even what Dante wanted to do would stop him.
However, a box with a note addressed to him did.
He nearly didn't open it. It was likely a prank, or something from the man who claimed he was the Hero to serve as a cruel reminder of what happened to him. Twenty seconds hadn't passed before a hint of guilt kicked in and he opened it to reveal... A flower. An elegant blue one.
It wasn't a real one. Rather, it was one created from paper and what felt like wire, propped up in a simple vase. It would be a rather safe conclusion for anyone to make to leave a rose, as it was the symbol of the day. But part of Dante couldn't shake the feeling that it was a more deliberate decision. A rose made of paper was time-consuming. It would have been easier to choose something like a daisy. Either the gifter was a wise consumer of art goods, or they were dedicated to creating something that would mean more to Dante than most would know.
(Who even knew he like roses anymore?)
The handwriting wasn't familiar, but it was kept anyway. Maybe in the future he might be able to identify who left it. For now, he put his study notes aside as he set to work finding a safe place for the flower to sit on his desk.
