Sharp tongued — analytical, confident — he’s got one hell of a reputation. How words passed around where he’d insult anybody, a friend or not — he’s not letting the opportunity slip by. How he would easily analyze you from afar and crush you with ease, he’s definitely not a player to mess with.

And so, why does his reputation not relate to him when he’s with you? You don’t get it — neither does he. This has never happened before. He doesn’t understand how he had let this happen — how he had let his hard exterior crack slightly and be a little bit softer around you. Not that he’d admit it, he’s not going to wound up and stress his pride over it. Although he swears, promises, he won’t let himself get anymore softer around you, he finds himself breaking that promise almost every time, like it was one hell of an impossible challenge to do.

“hey,” he hates it, hates the way he lets himself grip the hood of your hoodie so easily, hands reaching up and halting you in your tracks with the grip he has on the hood — his dark blue eyes locking with yours, “ya shouldn’t be out here all alone.”

Usually, he wouldn’t let himself concern over someone so easily — and definitely not after a few measly practice matches. He hasn’t even gotten to analyze your skills properly. Hadn’t gotten the chance to know you as well as he had wished he has. How have you sneaked your way into his heart and cracked it’s hard exterior? You’ve got to be cheating, no?

“let me walk ya home. ‘m sure your house isn’t far, anyways.” Hell, he doesn’t even know much about you. One thing he certainly is grateful for definitely has to be you being in the same team with him — and how you don’t even notice how he usually softens around you. That would’ve been pathetic to explain.

He lets his guard down slightly, large hand patting your head gently — like a puppy — as he averts his gaze away from yours, trying to ignore the way he feels himself softening around you.