colours

ten

"shit!"

oikawa turned his pants' pockets inside out. he even shook them. but no dice.

the poem wasn't in there.

he took a deep breath. okay. maybe he didn't put it in his pocket. maybe it's somewhere in his bag.

he overturned his schoolbag. books, notebooks, his pencil case, empty bento box, wallet, and keys came tumbling out, scattering themselves all over the floor. he shook every single one of the paperbacks, checked his pencil case, opened his wallet out, and inspected every nook and cranny of the bag.

still nothing.

where could it have been?

he ran his hands through his hair.

okay, fine. the poem isn't that big of a deal anyway.

so what if his classmates saw it?

no one would think he was absurd for wondering about this kind of thing, let alone writing a poem, right?

wrong.

if there was anyone who should never read that poem, there was only one person he knew who shouldn't.

iwaizumi hajime, that's who.