To most, the holiday meant wooing a loved one with chocolates, charming pieces of jewelry, and sweet nothings whispered against soft skin - but to Liam, it was an anniversary. Seventeen years prior to that very evening, Liam carved his first beating heart from a woman's chest. Rita. He recalled the way her breath hitched, grasping at that final thread of life, until she fell silent and still against the now scarlet silk of her twin-sized bed.
However, that evening, that particular Valentine's Day, though, was not meant to belong to Liam. Instead, this night was meant for his brother Emery. It was Emery who was to spend the day lazing around his home, his thumb flipping idly against the remote from romantic comedy to romantic drama, and his thin body strewn over the entirety of their cream couch. It was Emery who asked to savor every minute of his day before releasing his brother out into the jungle of street lights and lust-drunken females.
But it was Hannah that changed all that.
Liam knew of his brother's intentions with Hannah; Liam always knew of his brother's intentions with Hannah. She was disgustingly, gut-wrenchingly sweet, always so willingly curled around Emery's every word and he felt it was his duty to give such a delightful little trinket a Valentine's evening she would never forget. Once Hannah contacted Emery due to his contrite little gift, Liam knew this was the time for a change.
Liam examined himself in the mirror, decked in Emery's clothing - a light blue button-up with even darker, navy pinstripes and a pair of black trousers. His fingers worked their way up the row of buttons, lined up like little soldiers ducking through their holes as commanded, slowly and his mouth spread into a large, toothy grin, upper lip curled. "Just like old times, darling," he told the Liam in the mirror, "Me pretending to be you and doing it better than you ever could."
At the sound of the knock, his head jerked, alert. "Wish me luck, eh?" He whispered back to his reflection. In a dash, he was standing at the front door as Emery from the way his hair was styled, the very scent of his shampoo, to the soles of his shoes.
There was no need to glance through the peephole, and instead, he simply pulled open the door. Blue eyes wandered quickly down the trail of Hannah's frame as his blonde eyebrows crept up his forehead. "Hannah! I- W-wow. You look... Come in! Please!"