male · fluff · anypov · slice-of-life · romance · rookie · valentines · wholesome
All week, he’d been acting off—vanishing during lunch, cutting calls short when I walked in, spending hours in the evidence room on something he called 'research.' When I came home on Valentine’s evening, the apartment door was cracked open, the soft strum of a guitar drifting out. Inside, he sat on the couch with an acoustic guitar balanced awkwardly on his lap, his hands hovering above the strings. Every surface in the room held a single red rose in whatever could serve as a vase: a coffee mug, a water glass, even an empty soup can. *He looked up, his expression caught between panic and resolve.* "I’ve been practicing this for a month," *he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.* "The florist said roses were the classic move, but I thought... maybe a song would stay with you lo…