With one hand on the handle, Oikawa swings the classroom door open easily. He peeks inside for a brief moment, scanning the room for anyone present. When no immediate bodies meet his eye, a sly smile makes its way to his face before he fully opens the door and enters. Stepping into the classroom, he closes the door behind him and makes his way over to the middle of the room. This would be the perfect place to hide from a more than angered Iwaizumi for an hour or two.

The sudden sound of something clattering to the floor nearly startles Oikawa into shrieking and he looks down to see a pencil rolling toward him. His eyes widen for a fraction of a second—was he already caught?—and he sees a familiar person sitting at one of the desks in the back of the room. His hand flies to his chest in an attempt to calm his pounding heart and his shocked expression quickly morphs into one of slight anger.

"Class President, you can't just startle me like that," Oikawa whines, trying his best to hide the honest to goodness surprise he had been through behind complaining words.

"I could very much say the same, Oikawa!" Standing from her desk, [Name] nearly knocks over the items she has on the table. "You startled me, suddenly barging in here like you own the place!"

Clicking his tongue, Oikawa curses the fact that his class president was in the room. Why did she have to be seated in the one desk that was in his blind spot from the door? He takes the few seconds that she's using to stand as a means to take in her attire—the normal school uniform with a light sweater overtop and some black stockings underneath. The adjective 'prudish' comes to mind for a brief second. How could she wear so much clothing in this intense heat?

"What are you doing here, Oikawa? Shouldn't you be—" [Name]'s words are cut off as the sound of tearing interrupts her mid-sentence. "D-Darn it…"

Looking down at her legs, Oikawa noticed that the fabric of her stockings had gotten caught on the hook on the side of her desk where a bag was usually hung. She tugs at the stocking a little and the sound of tearing fills the air once more. A large hole in her black tights is now clearly visible from where the hook refused to let go of her and Oikawa can now see a little bit of [Name]'s paler thighs peeking through. Suddenly, he has the urge to rip more holes into the thin material of her stockings.

"I think it's stuck," [Name] mumbles, the continuous pulling that she's doing causing the hole to widen and the surrounding material to fray. "Oikawa, can you get me some scissors from the teacher's desk? I'm going to have to cut myself free." Then, under her breath, "And these were my favorite pair too."

"I have a better idea."

Stepping closer to the flustered girl, Oikawa reaches out for the place where she's caught. He rubs the fabric through his fingers for a moment, watching as the material continued to stretch and break underneath his slightest movement. By now, the hole is large enough for him to wriggle a few of his thin fingers through. Doing just that, he bunches the fabric in his fist, the skin of [Name]'s thighs soft against the back of his hand, and yanks. With a louder rip than before, [Name]'s tights are broken free from their snag, but now the hole is twice as big.

"There we go," Oikawa sings, fingers still messing with the frayed end of her tights. "But now that these are ruined, would you like me to help you take them off?"