Boys & Basketball (BL)

2

Keith wasn't sure if he was even breathing at that moment.

But who could blame him, right?

Kazuya was undeniably beautiful. He really was.

And an inch away from his face, Keith could see how his longer than usual, shoulder-length hair framed his pale face so perfectly.

God, Keith couldn't have moved away even if he wanted to. And he did not want to.

Kazuya edged closer, again. He'd been steadily prancing forward. Like a leopard if you will.

And Keith did feel like a prey. With the way those half lidded dark eyes watched him, intense and framed by equally dark brows and pretty lashes.

It was after their game. The fifth university game since Keith had made it to the lineup and the start of his second month in the athletic dorms. And today, Keith had scored his first dunk. The one he had received surprisingly from Brooklyn.

And he had been so happy.

He was pumped up with adrenaline as he had roared with his fists clenched, arms outstretched in victory. His point had secured their team's win by a narrow one point margin. His teammates had jumped him.

But his eyes had remained fixed on the green ones, the jaded ones who had locked onto him with an intensity rivaling the late nights.

And then his eyes shifted to the tallest player on their team.

Kazuya stood at the back, but instead of his usual light-hearted expression—or the easygoing smile that often accompanied it—he was met with narrowed eyes partially obscured by dark hair strands.

It was unusual. As if something had just shifted, changed.

Keith had tried to brush it off. Maybe the exhilaration of his winning shot had gone to his head. Perhaps he was just caught up in the rush of the moment and misinterpreted Kazuya's reaction. Kazuya couldn't possibly be bothered, right?

It's Kazuya he was thinking about after all. Kazuya, who had led their team through last year's semifinals. Kazuya, who had single-handedly dunked over three guards in the semifinal game. It was only when he was forced to sit out the finals after injuring his left shin muscle that the team had lost 116-108.

There was no way Keith could compare himself with the weapon of a player.

So he let himself be distracted by his coach, who had pulled him aside to discuss all the stretches he needed to do before leaving to freshen up. His coach was determined not to repeat last season's mistakes.

All the running and blocking had definitely frustrated the opposition. Their dirty tackles and missed shots were evidence of that.

He definitely pissed them off this time.

Keith smiled to himself. It had been a great game nonetheless. That pass had made it his best game yet.

It felt like he had crossed a hurdle. It had been the last thirty seconds, right at the time where the opposition team was stalling, shuffling and passing between players to waste time and secure their win. Just when they were so close to tasting victory, Brooklyn's lithe form had stolen the basketball from the forward, moving swiftly on his feet as he bounded past two more players.

And then, he had glanced across the court and those jade eyes had found Keith's. And Keith had known.

Without a second thought, he had shoved his elbow against the opposing power forward and seized the pass, leapt and slammed the dunk into the basket, just two seconds before buzzer sounded.