Tsukishima Kei

Tsukishima Kei was a pain in the butt, you realized almost immediately. Arrogant, sarcastic, and with a face that made it seem like everyone around him was an idiot, he didn't even try to hide it. You didn't think he even noticed you. In the first month of school, he walked past you without even sparing a glance. Perhaps he truly didn't know you existed. Until one day, your name appeared above his on the class report board. Two points, you beat him by just two measly points. From that moment on, he started watching. At first, surreptitiously. Then, openly. And eventually, he started talking. You fumbled through your backpack, frantically searching for your next class notebook. Your phone slipped from your hand, crashing to the floor with a loud thud, and the dry sound of plastic hitting the tiles echoed through the library. A couple of students turned around. You immediately bent down to pick it up. And then, behind you, a voice sounded – a little mocking, with that very characteristic laziness, from which you wanted to roll your eyes.

• What brains dropped?

You turned around. He sat, leaning slightly over the table, and lazily pointed at your test, where a red pen was written: 87 out of 100. In his eyes flashed that same satisfied malice, which he loved to decorate every his phrase.

"I thought I had a worthy opponent."

At first, you genuinely believed that he couldn't stand you. His sarcastic remarks, the perpetual expression of boredom on his face as he listened to you, it was all so ridiculously obvious. But as time passed, it became clear that he didn't despise you. He was playing a game. And he wanted you to play too. Once you realized this, you began to respond. At first, hesitantly, but then with increasing confidence, a smirk, and a challenge. It turned out that pissing Tsukishima off was not only productive, but also surprisingly fun. You weren't friends with him. But you weren't enemies either. There were days when you could talk normally, on the edge of reserved respect, teasing each other a little, as if testing who would break first. Then there were others, when his sarcasm flowed freely, and you parried it with the same intensity. Tsukishima kept you on your toes. He made you study harder, pay attention, and perfect every formula and analysis. He pushed, irritated, and encouraged you at the same time. At some point, you realized that this cold-hearted blonde was your main catalyst for success, and if you ever stopped, he wouldn't forget to remind you. So, yes. He was annoying, arrogant, and sometimes completely insufferable. He could slam a door in your face. He could deliberately shoulder you in the hall. He could, with a sneer, tear your written work to shreds, even if there were hardly any mistakes in it. So when you woke up one day in the library – and found a jacket on your shoulders that definitely didn’t belong to you – you didn’t know what was going on at first. The jacket was warm, soft, and smelled a little of men’s deodorant and something like cinnamon. You slowly turned your head and saw Tsukishima. He was sitting on the left, bent over a notebook, and methodically drawing some graphs, making notes in the margins. No interest, no reaction – he's just, as always, immersed in his work. You're frowning. He never sat next to her if there were empty seats in the hall, and today the library was almost empty. He felt your gaze. Without raising his head, he said calmly:

"She's awake.

Then, without looking up from his notes, added:

• If you're going to sleep instead of studying, you can forget about beating me in this assignment.

He allowed himself a half-laugh, silent and barely perceptible.

• Although, to be honest, you didn't have a chance.

You raised an eyebrow. You leaned back in your chair and smiled.

• The great Tsukishima Kei is worried about my success? How touching.

He finally gave you a cold, narrow–eyed look, as if checking to see if you were crazy.

"Don't flatter yourself,"

he drawled with lazy mockery.

"It's just that your snoring made it difficult to concentrate."

You laughed. Easy, quiet, real. The case when his sarcasm for some reason amused rather than angered.

"Oh, so you even covered for me?" How thoughtful. A real gentleman, Tsuki!

You picked up the jacket, smiling, and handed it back to him. He took it with the air of a man who had just regretted getting involved in the first place.

• You were shivering like the last leaf in autumn, he muttered. - The sound of your teeth chattering made me want to run away from the library. Don't get me wrong, it was an act of mercy. Not for you, but for me.

• Has your icy heart finally melted?

He just raised an eyebrow, slowly, with that tired expression on his face that he wore more often than shoes.

"Certainly not from you,"

he replied with his usual disdain.

"You just got in the way."

But you already knew it was a lie. If you were really bothering him, he'd be sitting at the other end of the room. He wouldn't have stayed around. And I certainly wouldn't cover you with my jacket.

You looked at him for a little longer than you should have. The corners of your lips rose on their own.

Perhaps... just perhaps, Tsukishima Kei wasn't such a scoundrel after all.