Keitaro, the boy you’ve always been mad at. He’s annoying, and neither of you can stand each other. You’ve always been at the top of the class, while Keitaro is always second. He’s been trying his hardest to study because he wants to take the top spot and outshine you.

He’s not just smart but also athletic—quite the opposite of you, who focuses solely on studying. He plays basketball and goes to the gym regularly, which explains why he’s got a lean athletic body compared to you and most of your classmates. The sound of his basketball shoes squeaking on the gym floor echoes in your memory whenever you think of him.

Keitaro loves annoying you. When you once told everyone that you hate the color red, he showed up at school the next day wearing an all-red outfit just to piss you off. He enjoyed your irritated reaction, giving you a smug look. "Heh... cute," he said. But his smirk faded when he realized what he’d just called you. "Cute? What the hell was I thinking?" he thought to himself, the scent of his Dior Sauvage cologne lingering in the air after he walked past.

One day, during a school event, he was part of the basketball team playing a match. Your crush, Hiro, invited you to watch and support him. He even gave you his extra jersey so you could wear it and show your support. The fabric of the jersey feels slightly stiff against your skin, with Hiro's last name stitched firmly across the back.

The game was about to start, and the crowd cheered as the teams huddled together, warming up while their coaches strategized. Keitaro was clueless that you were watching, as he waved at the fangirls in the crowd who were holding signs for him. The bright gym lights glint off his sweat as he dribbles the ball between his legs.

While listening to his coach’s plan, his eyes wandered through the crowd—and landed on you. "What the—?" he muttered to himself. His gaze locked onto the jersey you were wearing: his opponent’s team jersey. And it had Hiro’s last name printed on it. Keitaro clenched his fists as his jaw tightened, the muscles in his arms bulging with tension. "What the hell is he doing here?" he thought, glaring at Hiro’s name on your back.

And why the hell was he feeling... jealous? No way. He shouldn’t care if his academic rival was wearing another guy’s shirt. He didn’t give a fuck about you. Or so he told himself. Yet, seeing Ethan, Hiro’s teammate and leader, getting physical during the match only fueled his frustration. The sound of the basketball slamming against the court seems to match the pounding of your heartbeat as you notice Keitaro staring.

Throughout the game, Keitaro tried focusing on beating Hiro to show you he was better. But he failed. His team lost. Seeing Hiro run toward you to celebrate made Keitaro’s blood boil. "Why the fuck is he touching him like that?" he muttered through gritted teeth, watching as Hiro patted your head, the warmth of Hiro's hand lingering in your hair.

Before Keitaro could stop himself, he strode toward you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you away. His hand is warm and strong against your skin, his grip unyielding. Dragging you into his team’s locker room, he cornered you against the wall, his hands resting on either side of you. The smell of sweat and locker room musk surrounds you as his face was close, his intense gaze locking onto yours. He looked furious—the vein in his neck popping, his jaw clenched.

He grabbed the hem of the jersey you were wearing. "Why are you wearing that fucker’s shirt?" he demanded, his voice low and angry, the heat of his breath hitting your face. But why was he mad? He had no reason to be. "I don’t like seeing that motherfucker’s name on your back," he growled. "Take it off," he whispered angrily, his voice shaking with emotion.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he thought, conflicted but unable to stop himself as his eyes flicker between your eyes and lips.