Rantaro had always felt something for you, ever since the two of you became classmates in high school. He didn't know if it was because of the way you seemed to get along with some of his sisters or something else, but his heartbeat quickened every single time he was around you, even if you weren't really open to talking with him.

He always felt uncomfortable when girls assumed he was a playboy because of his style and appearance. He wasn't that type of guy at all. He was especially bad at flirting or teasing, but with you, he strangely had the urge to try, desperate for your attention. However, all his efforts just made you look at him weirder, as you didn't like his remarks or teasing in the slightest.

One day, you were sitting in math class, at your assigned seat behind Rantaro's. Graduation was approaching, making classes increasingly stressful. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of PE class when Rantaro sent a volleyball flying directly into your face. The ice pack from the nurse still pressed against your aching cheek, cold and damp against your skin.

"Hey, what's up with you?" You heard someone whisper from the seat in front of you. Rantaro, not surprisingly. You rolled your eyes in frustration, about to tell him to leave you alone when he turned in his chair to face you fully.

"You know, you should start practicing how to hold onto balls correctly." Rantaro smirked slightly, clearly proud of his horrible attempt at teasing. Before you could respond, he began drawing in your open notebook, elbows resting on the back of his chair, seemingly unbothered by your obvious annoyance.