Chapter Text
Hioki’s mornings always started the same way, the soft squeak of his sneakers against the polished floors of the school hall, the faint smell of chalk and disinfectant hanging in the air.
Most of the time, he didn’t notice the bustle around him, the chatter, the snickering, the distant thud of a basketball bouncing somewhere in the gym. He moved on, focused on the routines he had carefully crafted for himself. Hioki paused at his locker, hand hovering.
That’s when he saw it. A small, folded piece of paper, tucked carefully between his sneakers.
He squinted, suspicious. Who leaves paper between sneakers? Was this some kind of bizarre prank, like one of the students trying to start a scavenger hunt for kicks? He looked around. No one was watching, unless it was one of those utterly obnoxious types who thought they were sneaky. He picked it up carefully. It was plain, small, and faintly scented, something subtle, like cologne. His fingers lingered on the folded edges as he tried not to inhale too deeply and make it weird.
Finally, he unfolded it.
You did great yesterday.
Hioki blinked. He frowned. Was this a prank? He looked down at his sneakers again. Somehow, the words felt genuine, warm, sincere. His heart thumped just a little faster.
Just as he was trying to process this, the soft squeak of another pair of shoes drew his attention.
He looked up. Watarai Tsukasa was passing by. Perfect hair, a grin that could probably stop traffic, and a reputation that could gain him a fanclub.
Usually, Hioki barely noticed him. Watarai moved through the hallways like he always did, effortlessly, with that calm presence that drew eyes without meaning to. But lately, something has shifted. Watarai had begun appearing more often in the background of Hioki’s days, almost like a background character slowly becoming the protagonist.
Not in a loud, obvious way, but subtle, catching sight of him in class when he thought no one was looking, passing through the hall just a few steps behind him, or sometimes standing quietly a few lockers down, leaning lightly against the wall, and looking interested. Hioki felt his chest tighten when he caught sight of him that morning.
Watarai’s hair fell neatly over his forehead. His uniform was perfectly neat, his posture was relaxed. The contrast made Hioki almost stumble in his thoughts, he was usually so good at blending into the background, and here he was someone who seemed tuned in, without even trying.
“Hi.”
The voice was casual, almost effortless, like a breeze passing through the hall. Watarai tossed him a small smile, but Hioki caught it, the hint of something beneath it. Nervousness. It made Hioki pause for a heartbeat he hadn’t expected, his own lips parting slightly before he could even think of a response.
And just like that, Watarai was gone, swallowed again by the wave of students flooding towards their classrooms.
Hioki blinked again. Suddenly, the note felt heavier than it had that morning, almost like it carried some weight he couldn’t name. Curiosity burned quietly in his chest.
By the time he reached class, he tried to focus on the teacher, copying down notes, the pen scratching in his notebook like it was trying to bring him back to reality. But his thoughts had other plans.
Hioki had never felt particularly noticed before, not like this. Not in a way that made the chest tighten with warmth and confusion all at once.
During freetime, he sat quietly at his desk, trying to look casual. Until Tsujitani, loud and dramatic as ever, leaned over. “Oi, Hiiooki! You’ve been a little out of it today.”
Hioki looked up. “I’m fine.” he muttered, trying to sound normal.
“You don’t look fine.” Tsujitani countered, raising an eyebrow. “I can tell when you’re thinking about something!”
Hioki’s lips twitched into a faint smile. He wanted to brush it off, but maybe admitting it would be easier than lying. “I... I just had a weird thing happen.” He said, shrugging slightly. Tsujitani’s curiosity sparked immediately. “Weird, huh? Good weird, I hope.”
“Maybe... I’m not sure.” Hioki admitted, glancing down at his hands. His thumbs traced the edge of the desk as if it could bring him back to reality. Meanwhile, elsewhere in the school, Watarai walked down the hallway with his friends Hotta, Nakasato, and Morisaki. Jokes bounced off the walls as they went, friendly chaos.
But Watarai’s mind was elsewhere. That morning, he had slipped a note into Hioki’s locker, hoping it might bring a tiny smile to the quiet boy’s face. Thinking about it now made his ears warm, a faint pink creeping across them. He laughed along with his friends, but couldn’t resist sneaking glances toward Hioki’s locker row. Morisaki, the observant one, noticed immediately.
“You’re spacing out again.” Morisaki said, nudging him.
“I’m... Thinking.” Watarai mumbled, trying to sound confident, though the slight stammer betrayed him.
Hotta snorted. “Thinking about Hioki, aren’t you?”
Watarai froze. “I.. What? No.” He said too quickly, voice cracking.
Nakasato grinned, clearly entertained. “Sure, sure! Don’t worry. Just try not to weird him out or something!”
The teasing was light and warm, but Watarai forced a laugh, tightening his hands at his sides. They didn’t know, of course. No idea he had left a note in Hioki’s locker, no idea he was hoping for even the tiniest reaction. By the afternoon, after class and before badminton practice, Hioki returned to his locker. And there it was. A second note, waiting.
I like the way you focus. It’s nice to see.
Hioki’s chest tightened, warmth spreading across his cheeks. He turned the note over carefully in his hands. His stomach fluttered, and for a second, he imagined someone watching him, just around the corner. At badminton practice, he tried to push thoughts of the notes aside. But the messages kept playing in his mind, persistent. One of his friends from the club noticed.
“You’re daydreaming again!” He said, handing him a towel.
Hioki shook his head, almost smiling. “Just thinking.” He said, tucking the towel into his bag. After practice, rain streaked the windows, soft taps and drips filling the quiet moments. Hioki walked to his locker and found another note tucked behind his sneakers.
I admire you.
His lips curved into a small smile.
Meanwhile, Watarai’s friends lingered down the hall, keeping watch. “He’s looking for someone...” Morisaki murmured.
“He could be watching out for Watarai!” Hotta replied.
Nakasato nodded. “We should make sure Watarai doesn’t scare him off.”
Watarai shifted nervously, taking a deep breath. He had wanted Hioki to notice, but now that it had happened, his stomach was a tangle of nerves. Yet seeing Hioki walk past, carrying himself with quiet grace, made a blush creep up his neck. He wanted to say something, anything, but didn’t dare. Hioki paused at the main hall door, rain softening into a drizzle. He drew a deep breath, thinking about the anonymous notes.
Could it be Watarai? Probably not...
The notes felt careful, observant, and kind, in a way he hadn’t felt before.
Slipping his bag over his shoulder, he started walking home, careful to avoid puddles.
Back at school, Watarai’s friends exchanged knowing glances. “He didn’t notice you.” Hotta muttered.
“Not too bad.” Morisaki said. “He’s probably thinking about you.”
Nakasato nodded. “Yes! That’s a good start.”
Watarai leaned against the wall, watching Hioki disappear into the distance, a soft, satisfied weight settling in his chest. The next morning, Hioki arrived at school earlier than usual, the hallways eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that made him aware of every squeak and shuffle.
The air was cool and smelled faintly of rain, wet concrete, and damp leaves drifting in through the slightly open windows. He walked to his locker, heart thumping with anticipation. And there it was, another small piece of paper, tucked carefully between his sneakers, waiting for him.
You’re smart.
Hioki blinked. That little phrase carried so much weight, somehow. It was short, simple, but it made him feel lighter. He smiled faintly to himself, feeling a tiny bit ridiculous for caring so much about a few words on a piece of paper. But he couldn’t help it.
By mid morning, Watarai was pacing near his desk in their classroom, trying to act nonchalant as Nakasato, Hotta, and Morisaki lingered nearby. They pretended to chat, but really, they were keeping a watchful eye on him. Watarai felt every muscle in his body tense, like he was about to give a speech in front of the entire school.
“Relax!” Nakasato said softly, noticing the faint tension in Watarai’s shoulders. “He’s not going to run away if you approach him again. Calm down.”
“I know.” Watarai muttered, running a hand through his hair and trying not to fidget. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”
“You won’t.” Hotta said, beaming. “You’re careful enough to make him feel cared for!”
Morisaki hummed, leaning back slightly. “Just let it happen, that’s enough.”
Later that afternoon, after classes were finally over, Watarai slipped another note into Hioki’s locker. He didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be obvious. Watarai stepped back quickly, heart pounding like a drum, and glanced around to make sure no one had noticed. His friends gave him subtle nods from a distance.
Hioki returned a few minutes later, pulling the note from his locker. He frowned slightly at first, curiosity flickering across his face, and then the corners of his lips lifted into a soft smile. His chest warmed at the words.
You’re really good at what you do.
The days that followed settled into routine. School, practice, lunch, and the quiet thrill of finding new notes. Each one carried more observation, more care that made Hioki feel noticed, and yet not pressured. Watarai continued to watch from a distance, careful not to overstep, but occasionally caught himself sneaking glances towards Hioki. Morisaki sometimes shook his head, amused, muttering to Hotta and Nakasato about how painfully obvious Watarai was.
Hioki, for his part, began to notice subtle patterns, the timing, the tone. He didn’t know who was leaving them, but it felt like a small thread connecting him to them. And the anticipation of finding each new note became something he looked forward to.
He wondered about the person behind them, judging by how the notes were delivered. He couldn’t help but imagine the way they might tilt their head, the way their voice might sound if they ever spoke these words aloud.
Meanwhile, Watarai’s friends occasionally teased him, making quiet jokes that he pretended not to hear.
Hioki continued with his days, opening each note. It was simple, really. A few words, written with care. And yet, it felt important. Slowly, a new pattern began to take shape. Hioki found himself glancing towards his locker more often, feeling that faint thrill of possibility whenever someone passed nearby. Watarai, for his part, continued to hover around Hioki, careful, anxious, quietly hoping that one day the boy would look up and see him.
Not just the notes, but him. He wanted the first moment they truly noticed each other to feel right, not forced, not awkward. But the small blush that crept up his neck whenever Hioki smiled at a note, even if unaware of who had written it, made his casual persona almost impossible to maintain.