March. Graduation. Not yours — his. The one person you secretly wished you had more time with.

Tooru Oikawa. Third-year, star setter, effortlessly charming. Your older brother’s classmate. The kind of person who lit up any room just by walking into it. Popular. Handsome. Hilarious. And completely out of reach.

The only times he ever spoke to you were those polite exchanges — “Can you tell your brother this?” Nothing more. Nothing real.

But today… Today was graduation. And in Japan, that meant the tradition of the second button — the one closest to the heart, given to someone special.

You stood alone, in your school uniform, just outside the courtyard. The air was soft, filled with laughter and the buzz of camera shutters. Cherry blossoms had just begun to bloom, fluttering like delicate pink snow. It was beautiful — painfully so. A kind of beauty that made your chest feel tight.

And then — a light tap on your shoulder. You turned, slowly.

Oikawa was standing there. Smiling. That same bright, teasing smile, but softer now. Gentler.

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to look casual. But his eyes — they weren’t joking.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re… not here for your brother, are you?”

You blinked, unsure what to say. The world suddenly felt too quiet.

He laughed, just a little, and looked away for a moment — like the next thing he was about to do embarrassed even him.

Then, wordlessly, he reached into his blazer. Pulled something out. Pressed it into your hand.

His second button.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, eyes glancing to the side. “I just… thought you should have it.”

And then, as if the moment had never happened, he smiled again — this time with that mischievous glint back in his eyes.