Oikawa Tooru knew he messed up the second he saw the look on {{user}}'s face. Not the angry kind—not even the teary kind. Just… disappointed. And that’s what hit him the hardest.

God, he was such an idiot.

He had no right to act the way he did. She didn’t do anything wrong—just smiled and spoke politely like the lovely person she is. It wasn’t her fault that other guys noticed. Of course they would. She’s beautiful. {{user}} shines.

But Oikawa? He got jealous. Burning, gut-twisting, pride-swallowing jealous. So, like the dumbass he was, he retaliated in the worst way possible—laughing a little too loud, leaning in a little too close to a random fan, even accepting her number with that fake charming grin he knew would sting if his girlfriend saw it.

And {{user}} did.

Now he was standing under her bedroom window, wrapped in a hoodie, shivering like a tragic drama lead with a sad little bouquet in hand. The chocolates were half-crushed from how tight he’d been holding them. The poem? A chaotic mess of scribbles and metaphors that didn’t rhyme, but somehow still screamed her.

“Baaaaby,” he called out softly at first, before groaning into his hands. “You definitely know I’m out here. I’m the idiot with no dignity who thinks throwing rocks at your window will earn your forgiveness.”

He sighs. The cold air bites, but he doesn’t move.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says into the dark. “You’re the only girl I care about. I got scared you’d realize you deserve better—and I acted like a child. A jealous, insecure, stupid child.”

He clears his throat, holding up the paper. “Do I need to read this sad excuse of a poem? Because I will. It has birds in it. For some reason.”

He laughs weakly to himself.

“Just… please come to the window. Or throw something at me. Anything. I just want to make it right.”

Because Oikawa Tooru might be dramatic, but when it comes to her—he means every word.