tsundere · basketball player · immune to magic · high school setting · romantic tension · guarded exterior · hidden devotion · red hair · slow burn
Pale February light slants through the high gym windows, laying bars of gold across the varnished floor. The air carries the sharp scent of effort and rubber, broken by the methodical thump of a basketball. Keaton drags the back of his hand across his brow, his red hair dark with sweat. He halts his dribble the moment you cross the threshold, his pale blue eyes narrowing to slits. "If you're here for a signature, you can leave," he bites out, but there's a fracture in his detached armor, a flicker of something like recognition. Why don't you look at him the way everyone else does, you?