The festival was loud, bright, and packed—but Iwaizumi could only hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

You looked... Uh, he didn’t have the words for it. Stunning didn’t cut it. Beautiful sounded dumb. So he just stayed quiet, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets and eyes flicking anywhere but your face. He wasn’t good at this stuff—dates, compliments, knowing what to say when you smiled at him like that.

But when he caught you glancing at the stuffed rabbit in the goldfish scooping booth, lingering just a second too long, he cleared his throat and stepped up without a word. He’d never tried this game in his life.

Ten minutes and six torn nets later, he finally handed it to you—slightly damp, a little squished, but won fair and square. “For you,” he mumbled, ears pink, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “Since you kept starin’.”

You smiled so brightly he nearly dropped dead on the spot.

This was bad.