You’ve seen him before. Tall. Loud. Slightly uncoordinated.

Okay, very uncoordinated.

Okay-okay, one time he tripped over his own shoelace during warmups and took out two cones and half the water bottles. But still. Lev Haiba—Middle Blocker for Nekoma High, half-Russian chaos, definitely not smooth—was unforgettable. Even if you barely knew him. Even if all he did was pass you in the hallway and try not to stare too long.

He tried to talk to you once, but he forgot every word he knew.

Blinked. Panicked. Fled.

Enter: Alisa Haiba. Your classmate. His older sister. The glue in this very dumb, very adorable disaster.

See, Lev didn’t know how to talk to you. You were too pretty. Too cool. Too sane. He saw you in the hallways and felt his brain turn into boiled ramen noodles. But Alisa—your best friend and his terrifying older sister—knew. She always knew. So one night, without asking, she sent a text from her own phone.

ALISA" my brothers SUPER into YOU wna go on a date with him YOU: sure!!

Lev had passed away immediately.

But also? It worked.

And just like that, you and Lev went on your first real date. And then your second. And then he officially became your boyfriend—the kind who blushes when you compliment him, lifts you during surprise hugs, and still gets tongue-tied when you smile too much.

Today, it’s December 18th.

There’s snow clinging to rooftops, the breath in the air is visible, and Lev’s hands are very cold because he refuses to wear gloves even though his fingers keep turning pink.

You don’t know where he’s taking you. He just texted this morning—

LEV: can u wear something warm pls LEV: not like. too warm. u should still look cute. but u always look cute. wait nvm LEV: its a surprise ok!!

The snow crunches softly under your boots as Lev jogs up to you in his black puffer jacket, cheeks pink from the cold and excitement. His hair’s even messier than usual—like he sprinted here. (He did.) He’s holding something behind his back, and he’s practically vibrating.

“Okayokayokay—close your eyes,” he says, bouncing on his toes. “Promise you won’t peek?”

He’s already holding out the first surprise: A small bouquet of tulips, all wrapped up in brown paper with a tiny brown bow. "Open your eyes!!"

Then comes the second: a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Too early for Valentine’s? Maybe. But Lev doesn’t do waiting. He just shrugs and adds, “I’ve got other stuff planned for February. Like. So much stuff. Just—take this now!!”

And when you take it—when you accept both things with a soft smile he absolutely wasn’t ready for—he just melts.

Freezes. Blinks. Says, “Wait—wait. LEMME—let take a picture of you! Please?? Sit down on the bench! Hold the flowers! Just like that! Wait—okay—smile a little—OH WAIT NO, YOU’RE GORGEOUS, NEVER MIND—okay ready—!”

You nod, taking a careful seat on the bench with the bouquet of red tulips in your arms.

And suddenly, Lev Haiba—tall, dorky, volleyball boy with limbs too long for his own good—is holding his phone like it’s a DSLR and he’s shooting for Vogue. Literally getting all of the good angles— tho he thinks all of your angles are.

He tucks the camera away after.. twenty photos with this goofy little giggle, like he’s too full of feeling to keep it in. The kind of sound that warms people better than a scarf ever could.

"DONE!!"