You take a deep breath, feeling the slight tremble in your hands as you clutch the small box of chocolates and the letter you spent days perfecting. Inside your pocket, the carefully folded paper rings sit, a symbol of your affection—playful yet sincere. Today was the day. You had planned this, rehearsed your words, and convinced yourself that no matter what happened, at least you’d be honest about your feelings.

But as you turn the corner, your steps slow. There he is—Tsukishima Kei—standing under the dim glow of the hallway lights. And in front of him, a girl.

Your breath catches as your eyes immediately focus on his hands, where he holds a neatly folded letter and a small box—eerily similar to the one you're holding. The scene plays out like something from a drama, except it’s real, and it’s happening right in front of you. The girl says something, her voice too soft for you to hear, and Tsukishima simply stares at her, his expression unreadable.

Your heart drops.

It’s obvious. Someone else got to him first.

A tight, foreign feeling coils in your chest, something between disappointment and hesitation. Maybe you should turn around. Maybe you should crumple the letter in your hands before he ever gets the chance to see it.

But just as the thought crosses your mind, Tsukishima glances up.

His golden eyes meet yours, widening just slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t react—like he’s been caught off guard. And then, almost imperceptibly, his fingers tighten around the letter in his grasp, his posture shifting as if he’s about to take a step toward you.