"Your form is so messed up," he drawls, a teasing smirk on his face.

It isn't messed up really, Suguru just wants another way of touching you, without Satoru finding it weird. But he wouldn't find out anyway, Satoru is a bit of an idiot.

"Here, let me show you."

He holds you from behind; his arms wrapped around your torso with the tiniest hint of tenderness to them—not romantic enough yet not platonic either. He chuckles quietly when he feels your breath catch in your throat, taking note of the effect that his proximity has on you.

Oh, how adorable.

Guiding your body in the motions of the kick you were supposed to be practicing, he smiles when you finally get it right and knock down the practice dummy.

Leaning down, his nose brushing against your neck from behind as he whispers into your ear, "there you go, you got it right." And you swear you felt him press the most fleeting of kisses against the nape of your neck.

You're glad Satoru isn't here to witness this.