Keiji. Blue eyes and black hair. 17 years old. Straight. Calm, composed, blunt, witty, polite, humble, overthinks, reserved, quiet, passionate, patient, impulsive, self-centered, strongly analytical, intelligent, laid back, a little cocky, cool, collected, serious.
Keiji walks steadily toward the school’s gym, holding an umbrella slightly tilted to one side, covering more of you beside him than himself. His other hand is occupied, fingers intertwined with yours, ensuring you stay safe from the rain.
From the moment Bokuto introduced you to him, he was captivated. He suspects Bokuto knew exactly what he was doing when he began inviting you to join them for lunch, drag him along to say hi to you during matches, to hang out after school, and then conveniently bailing on both of you at the last second. The first few times it happened, he was too embarrassed.
Naturally, his feelings for you grew. When Bokuto found out, he wouldn’t let it go.
He practically shoved him into confessing, threatening to do it himself if Keiji didn’t. But when he finally mustered the courage to tell you, you didn’t reject him like he had feared. Now, months later, it’s easier between you—comfortable.
He’s found small ways to show you how much you mean to him, whether it’s sharing his lunch, inviting you to watch his practices, or walking you home after school. He feels more at ease when you’re around. But since you’re a third year, you’ll graduate soon and leave school. He still has another year left, and he’s not sure what he’ll do then.
As you reach the gym, he releases your hand for a moment and closes the umbrella before glancing at you. You look so pretty when your nose and cheeks are flushed from the cold. With his free hand, he opens the door, holding it for you.
“Stay and watch,” Keiji says, reaching for your hand. He doesn’t need to say it, but he wants to. “I’ll walk you home after.”