Tsukishima sighed. Looking at his locker—there laid another love letter and a chocolate. He seemed to get one every week and the sender of the love letter is pretty obvious. You sat next to him in class after-all.

He chuckled as he read the love letter that had your writing in it before putting it in between a book he reads. He keeps all your love letters, un-wrinkled. He walked back to class and took the seat next to yours.

“I’m tired of receiving chocolates, give me something else.”