So maybe he’s done this a thousand times– or, however many weeks have passed since the first day of primary school. This Wednesday, however, this week in their last semester of third year of high school, is no different from any other.
It’s immediately before practice; the point, at which, Iwaizumi is the most on-edge, volatile, and apprehensive; the most cognizant of Oikawa’s existence.
He pens it lovingly; straightening out a page torn from his notebook carefully before leaning against a wall to write out the note. The same note he writes every week—that’s been a constant since elementary school. He folds it and slides it carefully into Oikawa’s shoe-locker. It reads the same thing it always has.
OIKAWA KEEPS EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE NOTES. had he been born with just a pinch more creativity, he might’ve even taken up scrap-booking to better document the progression in iwaizumi’s handwriting. well, no matter. it pretty much looks the same since elementary school.
❝ hey, hey, hey! love notes, already? couldn’t wait until after practice, iwa-chan? is your heart just bursting? ❞ he fakes feeling faint, going so far as to rest the back of his palm on his forehead — both imitating and mocking a modern tragedy.
when he opens his shoe-locker, he acts entirely too surprised at what floats out. ❝ what’s it say, what’s it say! let’s see... ❞ oikawa pulls the slip of paper comically close to his face to ‘read’ it! ❝ do your best at practice today, captain. i believe in you. oh, and, here you signed... dinner on me?! aaaaah, wow! you’re really going all out today! ❞