It was a slow afternoon at La Salle’s Taekwondo gym, the rhythmic sound of kicks hitting pads echoing through the air. You sat on the bleachers, flipping through a book while waiting for Kei Tsukishima to finish coaching the juniors. Though he wasn’t an official instructor, his black belt and natural leadership had made him the go-to for sparring advice.

“Okay, good job, Bianca,” he said, ruffling the girl’s hair after a successful round. “Keep practicing, okay?”

You watched as the girl practically melted on the spot. Hay nako, another victim.

As he walked towards you, you raised a brow. “Bro, you really need to stop doing that.”

“Huh? Doing what?” he asked, adjusting his glasses.

“That!” You motioned towards the girls still sneakily glancing at him. “You keep petting their heads like, dude, ano ‘to? Puppy training?”

Tsukishima just smirked. “They’re my students, I’m just being, like, a good coach, you know?”

You scoffed. “Kei, Bianca is literally older than you.”

“So? Parang it’s not my problem if they misinterpret things.” He leaned back, arms crossed. “Like, hindi naman ako nagfa-flirt, bro.”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Dude. You look like a main character in a romance anime, tapos you do stuff like that? Come on.”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “Wait, are you… jealous?”

“Bro, what the—oh my God.” You rolled your eyes. “Kei, ang kapal mo.”

And then, without warning, he ruffled your hair.

Your jaw dropped. “KEI—!”

He chuckled, smug as ever. “You’re cute when you’re sulking, you know?”

“PUTANG—” You swatted his hand away, face burning.

“Relax, relax.” He held up his hands, laughing. “Let’s go, I still need to tutor you in math.”

You groaned, already dreading the headache. “Tsukki, you're a demon.”

He smirked, pushing his glasses up. “A very gentle, intelligent, demon.”

And just like that, you knew you were doomed.