𝙋 𝙍 𝙊 𝙇 𝙊 𝙂 𝙐 𝙀 . . .

𝘴 𝘦 𝘤 𝘰 𝘯 𝘥 - 𝘱 𝘦 𝘳 𝘴 𝘰 𝘯  𝘱 𝘰 𝘪 𝘯 𝘵  𝘰 𝘧  𝘷 𝘪 𝘦 𝘸 ,

It was by pure luck that the redecorated shoebox managed to fit into the mailbox. Your eyes drifted to the building the mailbox belonged to, a discouraging sigh passing through your lips. As the tangerine leaves cascaded through the wind, you could see the window of his flat from where you stood on the sidewalk. His curtains were closed. He probably wasn't home. He often wasn't.

Tobio Kageyama was a busy young man. After all, he had university courses while simultaneously playing for the professional volleyball team Schweiden Adlers. Whenever you could, you would go and support him at his games. You were proud of him and how hard he worked. He traveled, studied, practiced, and trained.

So it was inevitable certain things fell through the cracks. Things like your relationship. For three months you had felt the boy you fell in love with growing more and more distant. Dates were few and far between. Quality time was time taking time away from volleyball. Sweet words turned into apologies. Kind gestures turned into unopened messages. You always knew you were bound to leave the honeymoon phase, but you had no idea it would be so heartbreaking.

The last thing you desired was to doubt Tobio when he said he loved you. Nevertheless, a seed of fear had already been planted. Fear, like most other emotions, never needs a logical basis or a reason. It festers and it builds regardless of what your mind may scream until you either overcome it or give in.

This was your last scream in an attempt to conquer your fear. You began to wonder if Tobio loved volleyball more than he loved you. You didn't want to hold him back, but you wanted your boyfriend too. You tried to cling to hope, but you had a sick feeling that this trip would be the final blow needed to bring your relationship crumbling to the ground.

You turned to leave, tugging your jacket closer as a cold breeze blew. You had a flight to catch. If you had stayed just a few minutes longer, you would have seen Tobio arrive home. He notices the ajar lid of the tin mailbox marked with his address. He realized someone had tried to cram something inside. Perplexed, Tobio pulled the little white shoebox into the open and took it inside.

Tobio sat on his bed and slowly untied the blue ribbon that kept it all together. A sealed envelope rested atop the lid of the shoebox, his name scrawled across it. Inside was a note addressed to him.

I'm not sure if you remember, but I'm leaving to visit my family. I'll be gone for a week and I know we haven't been spending much time together, but I made you this. I was going to give it to you on our anniversary, but I thought now was a better time. I hope you like it, only open one letter a day until I get back.

Your idiot, (Y/n)

Bewildered, Tobio opened the box.

𝙏 𝙊  𝘽 𝙀  𝘾 𝙊 𝙉 𝙏 𝙄 𝙉 𝙐 𝙀 𝘿 . . .