Valentines With Winters

The morning sunlight trickled softly through my curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. Outside, the academy grounds buzzed with excitement. Valentine's Day had arrived, and with it, the usual flurry of confessions, gifts, and hopeful glances exchanged between students.

For me, however, the day started like any other. I dragged myself out of bed, a groggy sigh escaping my lips as I glanced at the pile of textbooks and papers on my desk. Between endless assignments and the relentless pressure of exams, my mind was a tangled mess.

"If I have to read one more chapter about magical theory, I might just lose it," I muttered, pulling my hair into a loose bun.

I shuffled to my wardrobe, picking out the academy uniform, its pristine white fabric and golden accents a stark contrast to my current state of mind. As I dressed, my thoughts drifted absently. I wasn't particularly keen on Valentine's Day—too many complications, too much emotional noise. I preferred my solitude, the quiet peace of my room over the chaos of romantic pursuits.

Once ready, I stepped out into the bustling corridors. Students were already exchanging gifts, their laughter echoing through the hallways. I avoided the main paths, slipping through less crowded routes, trying to steer clear of the overwhelming atmosphere. My goal was simple—survive the day, return to my dorm, and perhaps reward myself with a good book and a cup of tea.

Classes dragged by, each minute ticking slower than the last. Professors were unusually lenient, allowing conversations to drift toward the topic of Valentine's. By the time lunch rolled around, my patience was wearing thin. I opted to skip the bustling dining hall and instead retreated to the library, its quiet sanctuary a much-needed respite.

But even there, whispers of confessions and secret admirers reached my ears. I tried to focus on my studies, burying myself in magical texts, but the atmosphere was impossible to ignore. I sighed, closing my book with a soft thud.

"Maybe I should just head back," I murmured, gathering my things.

As the day wore on, I finally made my way back to my dorm, exhaustion weighing heavy on me. But as I pushed open the door, I stopped in my tracks. My desk, usually cluttered with papers and quills, was now home to an unexpected sight.

A small, elegant box of chocolates sat neatly on the wooden surface, tied with a delicate satin ribbon. Beside it, shimmering under the soft glow of the lantern, was a breathtaking ice sculpture—a single, intricately carved rose, its petals curling with delicate precision. Tiny frost-like details danced along the edges, catching the light like glistening snowflakes. The sight alone was enough to freeze me in place.

"Huh?" I mumbled, blinking at the unexpected gifts. Who…?

Curious, I reached for the small note tucked beneath the ribbon on the chocolate box and unfolded it carefully.

Hey Sera! Happy Valentine's Day! These chocolates are the sweetest in the city—just like you. The rose is for you, a representation of me. Hope you enjoy them~

Your Favorite, Camille.

I stared at the note, my heart doing an odd little flip.

Camille.

A small smile tugged at my lips despite my exhaustion. I ran a finger gently along one of the frozen petals, marveling at the detail. It was cold to the touch, but something about it sent a warmth curling in my chest.

Shaking my head, I let out a breathy chuckle. "Really, Camille…"

I picked up the chocolate box, undoing the ribbon as I settled onto my chair. The stress from earlier still lingered, but somehow, the day didn't feel quite as bad anymore.

And just as I popped a chocolate into my mouth, the rich, velvety sweetness melted against my tongue, filling me with warmth and comfort. I sighed, letting the exhaustion from the day momentarily fade into the background.

That was when a light knock echoed through my room.

I froze mid-bite. My eyes flickered toward the door, curiosity prickling at the back of my mind. Who could it be? At this hour?

Swallowing the last bit of chocolate, I rose from my chair and made my way to the door, still absentmindedly rolling the chocolate's lingering taste on my tongue. As I pulled the door open, my breath caught for a split second.

Standing before me, dressed in an effortlessly elegant white and light blue ensemble, was Camille.

Her outfit was simple yet refined—a long-sleeved, fitted blouse of the softest fabric, its high collar adorned with delicate silver embroidery. A flowing blue sash draped over her shoulders, cinched neatly at her waist, accentuating her graceful posture. Her platinum-white hair cascaded smoothly down her back, with a few strands resting lightly over her shoulder. The usual cool sharpness in her ice-blue eyes had softened, replaced by something quieter—expectant, perhaps even a little nervous.

"Camille?" I said, surprised.

Her lips curled into a subtle smirk, the kind that hinted at her usual confidence but carried a touch of anticipation. "How'd you like the gift I brought you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

I blinked, my fingers tightening slightly around the door handle. My gaze flickered briefly back toward my desk, where the ice rose still gleamed under the lantern light, its frozen beauty untouched.

I turned back to her, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "It was… beautiful," I admitted, my voice softer than I intended. "Both the chocolates and the rose."

Something flickered in Camille's eyes—pleased, but not quite satisfied. "Good," she murmured, stepping just a fraction closer. "Because I put a lot of thought into it."

I arched an eyebrow. "Oh? The chocolates too?"

She let out a light chuckle, a rare warmth seeping into her usually composed demeanor. "Maybe not the chocolates," she admitted, "but I did make sure they were the best ones in the city. Only the sweetest for you, after all."

My cheeks warmed at the way she said it—so casually, yet with an undeniable sincerity beneath her words. I looked away for a second, hoping she wouldn't notice.

Camille's smirk widened ever so slightly. "So, do I get a proper thank you, or are you going to make me stand out here?" 

I blinked at her, then glanced at the elegant yet effortlessly styled outfit she wore. A thought crossed my mind, and I hesitated before asking, "You… want to come in?"

Camille let out an amused chuckle, shaking her head. "No, silly. We're going out. The night still isn't over yet."

I frowned, glancing at the clock hanging on my wall. "Camille, it's seven in the morning on Valentine's Day. What could we possibly do?"

Her eyes gleamed with a knowing glint as she leaned against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed. "Just come," she said, a confident certainty in her voice. "The city comes alive earlier than you think."

I narrowed my eyes, skeptical. "You planned something, didn't you?"

Her smirk deepened. "Maybe. Now quit stalling and change into something casual. Unless, of course, you'd rather stay in your uniform and let me parade you around like that?"

I let out a groan, already sensing I wouldn't be winning this argument. "Fine, fine," I muttered, stepping back into my room. "At least tell me where we're going?"

Camille chuckled. "That's a surprise."

Of course, it was. I sighed as I rummaged through my wardrobe, pulling out something more relaxed than my stiff academy uniform. Meanwhile, Camille waited patiently outside, her presence lingering like a quiet but insistent force, making it impossible to ignore the strange warmth settling in my chest.

A Valentine's morning with Camille, completely unplanned on my end, but clearly orchestrated on hers. I wasn't sure what to expect, but one thing was certain—this day was about to take a turn I hadn't seen coming.

As I finished adjusting my outfit, I stepped out of my room and found Camille waiting just outside, her posture relaxed yet poised with an air of quiet confidence. She gave me a once-over, her ice-blue eyes lingering for a second longer than necessary before she nodded in approval.

"So?" I asked, crossing my arms. "Where exactly are we going?"

Camille's lips curled into that signature smirk of hers. "Somewhere romantic."

I blinked. "Romantic?"

She chuckled, reaching out and gently taking my wrist, her fingers cool yet surprisingly warm against my skin. "You'll see soon enough," she said smoothly, already leading me down the hallway. "Just trust me."

Trust her? I wasn't sure whether to feel reassured or worried. Camille had an unpredictable side, and that glint in her eyes only made me more suspicious.

Still, I sighed, deciding not to fight it—yet. "Fine. But if this involves something ridiculous, like ice skating at an ungodly hour, I'm going back to bed."

Camille let out an amused hum. "Not a bad idea, actually," she mused, clearly entertained by my grumbling. "But no, this is better."

Better? That was debatable.

As we stepped outside, the crisp morning air greeted us, tinged with the faint scent of fresh pastries drifting in from the city streets. The sky was still painted in soft hues of pink and gold from the rising sun, casting a warm glow over the academy grounds. The city beyond, usually bustling during the day, was already stirring with early risers setting up market stalls, bakeries opening their doors, and the faint sound of street musicians warming up for the day.

Despite my lingering exhaustion, there was something oddly peaceful about this early-morning atmosphere.

Camille must have noticed, because she shot me a knowing glance. "See? The city isn't as asleep as you thought."

I exhaled, shaking my head with a small smile. "Alright, fine. I'll admit, it's nice."

Her smirk softened into something more genuine. "Good. Because this is only the beginning."

With that, she gently tugged me forward, guiding me toward whatever surprise she had in store. And though I wouldn't say it out loud, there was a small part of me—just a little—that was looking forward to finding out.

The city streets, once quiet and serene, had begun to stir with the early morning crowd. Market stalls lined the cobblestone roads, their tables adorned with fresh produce, golden pastries, and bouquets of vibrant flowers. The air was filled with the mingling scents of warm bread, sweet confections, and freshly brewed tea, making my stomach grumble in betrayal.

I took in the sight of the bustling marketplace, my brows furrowing slightly. "Wait… we're shopping?" I muttered, eyeing the stores and stalls ahead of us.

Camille let out a small laugh, the sound light and undeniably pleased with itself. "Shopping for something," she corrected, her grip on my wrist shifting as her fingers intertwined with mine—smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I stiffened.

Her hand was cool to the touch, her fingers slender but firm, sending an unexpected warmth creeping up my neck. My heart did an odd little flutter before I could suppress it, and I quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the marketplace.

"A morning picnic," Camille continued, entirely unfazed by the sudden flush on my face. "Just me and you."

I blinked. A picnic?

That was… surprisingly thoughtful. And undeniably romantic.

I risked a glance at her, but Camille was already scanning the stalls, completely at ease as if she hadn't just casually intertwined our hands and declared we'd be spending the morning together.

I cleared my throat, willing the heat in my cheeks to disappear. "You planned all this?"

She hummed, tilting her head. "More or less. I figured you'd need something to take your mind off your stressful day, and there's no better way to do that than good food and good company."

I raised a brow. "You sure this isn't just an excuse to spoil me?"

Camille's smirk deepened as she tugged me along toward a vendor selling fresh fruit. "Maybe," she admitted, squeezing my hand lightly. "But are you really complaining?"

I bit my lip, trying (and failing) to suppress a small smile. "...No. I guess not."

And just like that, Camille led me further into the market, her hand still firmly in mine. And for once, I let her.

The morning air was crisp and refreshing, carrying the scent of freshly baked bread, ripe fruits, and the delicate floral aroma of nearby flower stalls. The market stretched out before us, lively despite the early hour, with vendors calling out their best deals and customers weaving between stalls, baskets in hand.

I couldn't help but take in the sheer variety of goods on display—golden-brown pastries stacked neatly on wooden trays, glistening berries arranged in woven baskets, blocks of cheese wrapped in parchment, and warm, steaming buns that looked so soft they practically melted in my imagination. The sight alone was enough to make my stomach grumble in anticipation.

"Wow, there's a lot of food here," I said, amazed as I took in the vibrant spread.

Camille chuckled, her eyes flickering to me in amusement. "Of course there is. The morning markets are the best place for fresh ingredients. I wouldn't take you anywhere less than the best."

I gave her a side glance, raising a brow. "So now you're an expert on morning markets?"

She smirked, squeezing my hand ever so slightly before letting go and stepping forward to inspect a display of fruits. "Let's just say I have good taste," she replied, picking up a perfectly round apple and holding it up for me to see. "Here. This one's for you."

I took the apple, feeling its smooth, cool surface against my fingertips. "You're just giving me an apple?"

Camille shrugged. "Consider it an appetizer."

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

Her smirk softened slightly as she tilted her head, a teasing glint in her icy-blue eyes. "And yet, here you are, willingly going along with my plans."

I rolled my eyes but took a bite of the apple anyway, savoring its crisp sweetness. The juices burst against my tongue, refreshing and light, a perfect contrast to the cool morning air. As I chewed, Camille turned her attention back to the stalls, her expression unreadable yet oddly content.

We strolled through the market, hand in hand, weaving between vendors and stopping occasionally to pick out the best ingredients. Camille, to my surprise, had a surprisingly refined eye when it came to selecting food—choosing the ripest berries, the softest bread, and the most fragrant tea leaves without hesitation. It was effortless, as if she had done this a thousand times before.

"You really know what you're doing," I commented as she handed a vendor a few coins for a bundle of fresh strawberries.

Camille smirked. "Did you think I'd take you out on a date without preparing properly?"

The word date caught me off guard, and I nearly choked on the last bit of my apple. Camille noticed, of course, her smirk widening with amusement as she took the fruit from my hand and tossed the core effortlessly into a nearby bin.

"You should be more careful, Sera. You'll break my heart if you collapse before we even get to the best part."

I shot her a glare, though the warmth creeping up my neck betrayed me. "You're insufferable."

"And yet," she said smoothly, stepping in closer, "we're still here together."

I huffed, looking away, but she only chuckled, clearly enjoying my reaction.

With our baskets now full, Camille led me away from the bustling marketplace, down a quieter, more secluded path lined with cherry blossom trees. The morning sun had risen just enough to cast a golden glow over the landscape, the petals swaying gently with the breeze. It was breathtakingly serene.

After a few minutes, we arrived at a small clearing by the river, where a stone bridge arched gracefully over the shimmering water. The grass was soft and lush, and beneath one of the largest trees, Camille had already prepared a picnic blanket—because of course she had planned ahead.

I blinked, looking between the setup and her. "You really thought of everything, huh?"

Camille shrugged, setting the basket down and pulling me to sit beside her. "I wanted this morning to be perfect," she admitted, her voice softer this time.

There was a sincerity in her words that made my chest feel warm.

She began unpacking the food—arranging slices of bread, cheeses, fruits, and pastries onto a small wooden board. She even poured tea into delicate porcelain cups, as if we were in some noble's garden instead of sitting beneath a tree by the river.

I took a strawberry from the basket, twirling it between my fingers. "You know, I could get used to this. Being pampered like royalty."

Camille smirked, leaning in slightly. "Oh? Then maybe I should feed you, too."

I paused mid-bite, eyeing her suspiciously. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, but I would," she said smoothly, plucking a piece of bread and holding it up to my lips. "Open up."

I scowled at her playfulness but, against my better judgment, let her place the piece of bread in my mouth. She watched me intently, her gaze flickering down to my lips before meeting my eyes again, a satisfied glint in her expression.

"You know," she murmured, resting her chin on her palm, "you're cute when you get flustered."

I nearly choked again. "Camille!"

She laughed, the sound rich and amused. "Relax, I'm just appreciating the view."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "I swear, you're enjoying this way too much."

She plucked a grape from the basket, popping it into her mouth as she smirked. "Maybe. But can you blame me? A morning with you, a romantic setting, and all this delicious food? It's a perfect Valentine's date."

I lowered my hands slightly, peeking at her through my fingers. "So… you're saying I'm part of the 'delicious' part of this?"

Camille tilted her head, her smirk deepening. "Oh, definitely."

Heat rushed to my face, and I turned away, focusing on my tea as if it held the answers to the universe. Camille simply laughed again, sipping her own tea with the confidence of someone who had definitely won this round.

As much as I wanted to scold her for being so effortlessly flirtatious, I couldn't deny it—this was probably the best Valentine's morning I'd ever had.

I took a slow sip of my tea, trying to steady the warmth in my chest, when Camille's voice broke through the comfortable silence.

"Sera."

"Hm?" I hummed absentmindedly, still distracted by the lingering taste of honey and berries on my tongue.

"You're really pretty, you know that?"

My breath caught.

I blinked, the words sinking in just as I became acutely aware of how close Camille had leaned in. The lazy, teasing edge in her voice was gone—replaced by something softer, something undeniably real.

I turned my head slightly, only to realize she was already watching me. Her ice-blue eyes, usually sharp and calculating, had softened in the golden morning light, reflecting something warm—something I couldn't quite name.

That was when I suddenly paused, my mind catching up to everything at once.

The space between us had vanished, barely a breath apart. I could feel the faintest touch of her fingertips resting near mine on the picnic blanket, close enough that if I shifted even slightly, they would brush.

The air around us changed, growing still and intimate, as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of us beneath the cherry blossom tree.

I swallowed, trying to muster some kind of response, but my mind had inconveniently decided to turn blank.

Camille, of course, noticed. Her smirk returned—smaller this time, but still unmistakably her.

"What?" she murmured, tilting her head slightly, the movement drawing her even closer. "Did I catch you off guard?"

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look anywhere but her lips. "You—" I started, but the words got tangled somewhere in my throat.

Camille chuckled, the sound lower, more amused. "You're cute when you're flustered."

I groaned, finally finding the strength to pull back slightly and cover my face with my hands. "Camille, stop."

"Why? I'm just being honest." She propped her chin on her palm, her gaze never leaving mine. "You're pretty, and I think you should hear it more often."

I peeked at her through my fingers, still trying to recover from the sudden shift in atmosphere. She didn't look like she was joking. There was no teasing lilt, no playful smirk meant to get under my skin—just an unwavering sincerity that left me feeling far more vulnerable than I wanted to admit.

And somehow, that was even worse.

Before I could think of something—anything—to say, Camille moved.

Her hand reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against my cheek before cupping it fully, her touch cool yet soothing against my flushed skin. The world around us seemed to fade, the gentle rustling of the cherry blossom tree and the distant murmur of the river turning into nothing more than background noise.

My breath hitched as she leaned in, her sparkling ice-blue eyes locking onto mine, searching—asking.

"May I?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The weight of the moment settled over me, my heartbeat thudding loud enough that I was sure she could hear it. Time stretched, seconds feeling like eternities as I found myself caught in her gaze, lost in the quiet intensity she held.

Slowly, hesitantly, I nodded.

Camille's lips curved into the faintest smile, a soft, pleased glimmer in her eyes before she finally closed the distance.

Her lips brushed against mine—gentle at first, as if giving me a chance to pull away. But I didn't. Instead, I found myself leaning in as well, reciprocating, my hands gripping the fabric of her sleeve without even realizing it.

Her touch was slow, deliberate, savoring every second as if she had all the time in the world. There was no rush, no urgency—only the quiet, lingering warmth between us. She tilted her head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to make my heart stutter.

I melted into her, the tension from earlier dissolving into something softer, something sweeter.

When we finally parted, Camille didn't pull away completely. Her forehead rested lightly against mine, our breaths mingling in the space between us.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Sera," she murmured, her voice carrying the warmth of someone who had just won a game she'd been playing all along.

I exhaled a shaky breath, barely able to find my voice. "You—" I swallowed. "You're impossible."

Camille only chuckled, her thumb brushing against my cheek in a slow, lazy motion. "And yet, you're still here."

I groaned, but I didn't pull away. And neither did she.