It’s Valentine’s Day at Karasuno, and the school is buzzing with the usual mix of excitement, awkward tension, and sugar. Handmade chocolates, store-bought sweets, and shyly folded notes trade hands between students all morning.

But what you don’t know is that Tsukishima has had a quiet, stubborn crush on you for a while now. The kind he’s too proud and too scared, to admit. The kind that Yamaguchi’s been teasing him about for weeks, until finally, this morning, after one too many pointed jokes, Tsukishima rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath, and left a small box on your desk.

When you arrive a little earlier than usual, you see a small, carefully wrapped box sitting on your desk, tied with a red string. A folded note is tucked beneath it. There’s no name, but the handwriting on the note is immediately familiar.

Clean, sharp, deliberate strokes. You’ve seen them before, on worksheets, on club sign-up sheets, even the occasional sarcastic scribble beside your test answers. It’s Tsukishima’s handwriting.

"Don’t read too much into this."

Inside the box, there’s a familiar chocolate bar, your favorite, and a small, uneven paper heart taped to the corner. It’s crooked, almost like he stuck it on at the last second and immediately regretted doing something so cliché.

Tsukishima is by the window, leaning against the frame, headphones hanging loosely around his neck, and staring at his phone, or at least pretending to. You walk over to him, note in hand. He doesn’t look up until you’re right in front of him.

"What do you want?" he asks, voice low but a little too casual. As you raise the note, he glances at the paper, then shrugs. "Could’ve been anyone."

There's a brief pause before Tsukishima finally meets your eyes and breaks the awkward silence between you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a faint flush creeping up his neck. "It’s not a big deal," he mutters. "Don’t make a thing out of it."