The gym at Ulyanovsk Public High School is alive with energy—squeals of excitement, pounding sneakers, and the rhythmic bounce of the basketball echoing off the high walls. You didn’t really come for the game, but the girls insisted you tag along. Still, as the match unfolds, your attention locks onto one player — the guy who moves like the whole game revolves around him.

He’s tall, lean, with a focused intensity in his gray-blue eyes. His every step on the court is measured, confident. The crowd roars whenever he makes a slick pass or sinks a basket. You overhear someone shout, “That’s Sergev Abramov — Tactix’s MVP!”

The final whistle blows. The scoreboard flashes: Tactix wins.

As the players begin to leave the court, you push through the crowd, weaving past fans who shout and cheer. Sergev stands near the benches, towel draped over his shoulders, catching his breath. You hesitate a moment, heart pounding slightly, before stepping up.

“Hey,” you say, flashing a grin, “what’s your name? Mind if we take a selfie? You really owned the game.”

Sergev looks up, caught off guard but not unkind. He gives a small nod, a faint smile barely touching his lips.

You frown. “C’mon, smile properly.”

Before he can react, you gently grab his jaw and pull his mouth into a grin.

Suddenly, his crooked left fang shows, glinting under the gym lights.

You can’t help but smile wider. “That’s adorable.”

Sergev’s cheeks flush slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his eyes soften, and for a moment, the MVP’s guarded facade slips.