(...luckily, I AM a sap.)

- It doesn't matter what day it is. Really. It doesn't. 

You're thinking this as you sit in the middle of the floor in some random hotel room, methodically cutting pieces of paper into vague heart shapes, handwriting sentiments that will probably seem phony coming from you, even if they totally aren't. 

Then you look at the box next to you, and almost want to cry. You should probably just drop the scissors and give up, you think.

 Why the hell are you doing anything for him for Valentine's Day, anyhow? Are you even at that point in your relationship yet? Or will it just make everything all embarrassing and... weird?

Exhausted, you put it all into a pile with some order and shove it under the bed. You sigh a deep, dejected sigh, wiping your palms on the legs of your jeans. 

Jesus, you think. It's almost like being in the seventh grade again. 

Then the doorknob rattles, leaving you scrambling to make it look like you weren't doing anything, nothing at all. 

And, true to your previous seventh grade statement, all it takes is one shy smile from a man you've known for years to turn your legs to jelly. 

- "What's with Valentine's Day, anyway?"

Hearing those words before the show, your stomach sinks. You try to look up from your reading material in the most inconspicuous manner before asking the obviously crucial question. 

"What do you mean?"

As usual, Trent looks absolutely disgusted with the world as he rolls his eyes. "It's stupid," he says. "People still take it seriously. Grown-ass adults."

"Yeah," Robin chimes in. "Nothing more romantic than St. Valentine's martyrdom."

"Saints." You hear Danny chuckle from somewhere across the room. "Now that sounds like another topic that you could tear down, Trent."

"I mean, I could if you wanted me to. But we've kinda got a show in just a few minutes..." 

You can tell that he's not in all that bad of a mood by the smirk forming on his face. Ever since the beginning, you've been enamored with that smirk. It used to simply be your assurance that everything was alright, despite any mishap that could be detrimental to a show. 

It became a little bit more than that when that feeling that had always been stirring somewhere deep within you began to rear its head a lot more often. 

Weakly, you manage to smile back, before offering a personal anecdote that no one asked for. "Valentine's Day is for saps."

Trent looks at you, then. Really looks at you, like he's trying to see right through you, -- like he knows that you're trying to hide something, you think. It freaks you out, how he's able to do that. 

Then, to betray that look, he smiles again, sly. "You're right," he says. "That's precisely why it seems so idiotic to me. Because none of us are saps."

Just after he says this, he reaches over, grabs your hand, and squeezes. 

You wish that, as one of the 'grown-ass adults' he had previously mentioned, you could say that your face didn't heat up, just from having him hold your hand. 

You still look back at the rest of the guys, just to make sure. 

Just a few seconds, you think as you pull away from him. Not anything that anyone would notice.

- "I'm not having any of that lighter-waving shit tonight! All I want you to do is take those middle fingers of yours and put them up, -- for Valentine's Day!"

Oh, God. 

It's all you can do not to spontaneously combust upon seeing the lights from onstage reflect upon the crowd, only for it to catch what must be thousands of middle fingers, raised proudly in the air. It's not the craziest thing you've seen the crowd do at a show, -- hell, you know they'd do anything that Trent asked them to, especially if it's rude and would probably tick their parents off. 

Still, you know from the way that he quickly looks back at you at the side of the stage that you sparked this. Given the situation, you're not quite sure what to think about that. 

You just end up shaking your head as, at a thematically convenient time, the band launches into "The Only Time." 

- Valentine's Day is for saps. 

Those words continue to come back to you that evening as you board the bus, your group of guys in tow. 

When they all (mercifully) got the opportunity to shower, you thought back to the box that you currently had hidden under the bunk. It was completed, finally; you had put the finishing touches on it early on in the day.

And now, you're thinking of discarding it completely. 

You've pondered this as you knocked back an after-show beverage or three, seriously considering the pros and cons of any possible outcome. 

At this point, you're pretty sure that just burning the thing would be the best option. 

Because Valentine's Day is for saps, you think, and deserves thousands of middle fingers. Because you're grown-ass adults, not middle schoolers. Because you're hardly anything more than business partners, anyhow, and you don't want to make anything awkward or suspicious. 

You're thinking of all the ways you could violently yet discreetly destroy it when the sound of the door opening ruins your plans once again. 

- "Hey. You busy?" 

You roll over with a slight sigh. You hadn't even turned the light in your bunk out yet, but you had all intentions of passing out. But, of course, that's looking to be out of the question, considering you have the cause of most of your afflictions right in front of you, staring at you with wide green eyes. 

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you meet those eyes. "Well, I was going to sleep--" You blink, rubbing your eyes as he gazes at you expectantly. "...but I take it you're not gonna let me do that, are you?" 

- Trent shakes his head, seemingly annoyed by the simple insinuation that he might be needy. (Which he totally is.)

"I'm not gonna bug you for long," he says. "I just wanted to tell you..." 

He fumbles around for a bit before finally coming up with some object, which he hastily shoves toward you. "...happy Valentine's Day." 

- You look down, a bit surprised, at the oversized box of candy he's placed before you. When you look back at him, he runs his hands through his hair nervously, a slight blush visible on his cheeks, even in the dim lighting of your bunk. "I know it's not much, and that I promised you those a while ago, anyway, but... um... I wanted to do something, and I really didn't want it to be damn flowers... and I didn't know what else..."

You interrupt him with a soft laugh. "Jesus, stop rambling and come here."

Slowly, he obeys, awkwardly maneuvering himself into your bunk to sit next to you. As soon as he does, you move in for a quick but tender kiss, one hand pressed against the flaming skin at the side of his face. You pull away with a smile, proudly observing the way that blush has spread. It still astonishes you that you, of all people, can make him so very bashful.

"I love it," you tell him truthfully. "Thank you so much for thinking about me. Even if Valentine's Day is just for saps."

You pause before finally deciding to just do it. "Hold on a sec, okay?" 

- You rummage underneath the bunk for a bit before finally coming up with the box. Placing it in front of him, you realize that it's your turn to be nervous now. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, fidgeting. 

"It's kind of stupid, I know, but..."

Trent doesn't reply, lifting the top of the box. 

You can't really read his reaction as he explores the contents. You fear the silence will kill you before he finally looks back up at you. When he does, his eyes are practically glittering. "You took the time to do all this for me?"

- You nod, chewing at your lip as you look back yourself at the various heart-shaped pieces of paper, thrown haphazardly into the box, and interspersed with copies of the few pictures you had held so close to you over the years. 

It's beyond sappy, you know. Each handwritten note details some memory or the other that the two of you had made in the nearly-eight years you had been on the road with the band. From the moment you had first met in a club in Ohio, to the moment a few months ago when you had finally bitten the bullet, letting him know just how you felt by practically shoving him against the wall, your lips pressed so very close to his. 

It might even be enough to scare him off, you think.

Judging by his reaction, it doesn't seem to be. He grins at you, eyes solemn. "You know you're one of the best things that's ever happened to me, right?"

Now, you feel your face going red. "Trent--"

"You are," he insists. "You know how many other people have cared enough to do something like that for me? Not many." 

"Please."

- You don't know if that last word you spoke was a denial or a plea, but either way, that and the drinks you indulged in gives you enough incentive to kiss him again, a bit sloppier this time. He happily returns the kiss, making a quiet noise of surprise as you push him back into your mattress. 

After the two of you have settled down a bit, (because, geez, it's a bunk,) you find yourself somehow folded into his arms despite the small space. He squirms just a bit. "God, -- can I move a little bit? How are you even comfortable in here?" 

You giggle, eyeing him teasingly as you move back against the wall a bit. "Shame. You'd think that you of all people would know how to manage two people in a bunk."

He rolls his eyes. "Shut up. I got awkward limbs. Besides, cuddling's different."

"I love your awkward limbs." You're content as you settle next to him once more, his arms wrapping around your waist. "I've loved them since I first met you." You smile as you kiss his cheek. "Do you remember the night we met? God, you were so awkward and cute."

He eyes you with a look of shock. "I'm not awkward and cute now?"

"Of course you are," you reply. "But then... God, you looked like a kid. The long hair... the God Squad shirt... you wouldn't look at the crowd. Your arms were like twigs."

He groans. "I get it. I'm skinny." He turns back to you. "...like you were any better. You had something weird going on with your hair back then..." He reaches to brush a tendril from your forehead, so gentle.

You hum, leaning into his touch as you continue. "And I talked to you for the first time after the show, and I thought you were just so wonderful. You were smart, and nice, if a little bit shy, and I didn't just want to work with you and lift your stuff, I wanted to know you. I wanted to be your friend. And it didn't take a long time for me to want to be something else, once I started to get to know you."

You go pink again then, leaving him to gently kiss your temple. "It didn't take me long to want to be someone to you, either," he says. "Given, it took me forever to show it, and I'm so sorry for that..."

"Shh." You kiss him one more time before lying back down, your head on his chest. "Happy Valentine's Day, Reznor. I love you."

"I love you, too."

- Somehow, the two of you manage to fall asleep just like that, tangled up in one another in that small space. 

And in the morning, when everybody else wakes up before either of you do, they don't say anything about the fact that the two of you are MIA, at least one bunk empty. 

Try as you might to hide it, they've already got it figured out.