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I.
Aomine was inadequate. His cons were more than his pros. The way Midorima saw it, he was deficient in every area that didn’t include basketball. Perhaps that was a harsh assessment, but what did he care?
Usually he wouldn’t ponder such pointless matters, but the conundrum from middle school came up again. He’d been talking on the phone with Momoi, who for some reason always felt a need to make her perkiness known, and like routine, Aomine snatched the device and decided to insert himself into the conversation Midorima already didn’t want to be having because god forbid something wasn’t about him.
This was irksome for several reasons. Though Midorima would rather eat his foot than sing anyone’s praises, it was undeniable that Momoi was a genius; she could predict things even his horoscope couldn’t foresee. As such, Midorima, who also valued logistics and practicality (even if his were much more bizarre and unconventional than hers), felt a reluctant fondness and camaraderie towards her.
So why did Momoi stay by his side?
Again, it was a rather extraneous train of thought, but perhaps it bugged him so much precisely because it was so… incomprehensible.
Momoi was smart — she recognized she had no obligations towards Aomine. She wasn’t lacking in dignity or self-worth despite posing as ditzy and harmless. For a while, Aomine made her unhappy more often than not. Day and night, she proclaimed her feelings towards Kuroko, and it was undeniable Kuroko was much less of a bane on anyone’s existence than Aomine would ever be.
And yet she chose Aomine, anyway. Even though she had an obvious aversion to change, she walked right next to him and decided to stand right where the currents of it were at their peak, and only because Aomine was there. She coveted this relationship which was always on the precipice of something it wasn’t way more than any other connection in her life, no matter how many times she chided ‘Dai-chan’ for being lazy and insensitive and a jerk. Above all, her priority was the possibility they might make amends some day.
It made no sense. Mathematically speaking, it was all wrong.
“You shouldn’t steal Momoi’s phone,” Midorima said. He wasn’t amused. If anything, he had a headache, which was possibly the farthest point someone could get from warm feelings of nostalgia between old teammates.
“Don’t worry, Midorin!” Momoi giggled. “I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, see,” Aomine said.
There was no point to his addition other than to be in agreement with Momoi. Together, they bickered and hurled insults at each other. Around anyone else, Aomine would go out of his way to prove they were aligned, often unnecessarily, like an immature child in kindergarten bragging that his bestie prefers him over anyone else on the playground.
Despite being unable to see him, Midorima could imagine that he was picking his ear, and worse Momoi didn’t get grossed out by it unless he did it on the court. He then decided he shouldn’t be wasting energy on visualizing Aomine.
“Have you considered maybe I don’t want to speak with you?”
“What, you wanna talk with Satsuki, then?” he asked, evidently disbelieving that Midorima would want to speak with anyone whatsoever.
“Share the love, Midorin!” chirped Momoi in the background. For someone who’s had to deal with Aomine for seventeen years, she was in high spirits.
They were ganging up on him. Bastards who share a single brain cell, the both of them.
“I do not think it’s acceptable for you to habitually steal someone’s phone.”
“That thirsty to talk to Satsuki one on one, hmm?”
“Dai-chan, leave Midorin alone!” There was some rustling. He was on speaker, that much was obvious from the echoing, and yet they wrestled over who would get the honors of holding the phone. Momoi won the struggle in the end, which Midorima realized she wouldn’t have if Aomine really didn’t want to let her have it. Her voice was airy despite her earlier reprimands. “We should organize a meet up soon. Get everyone together. Although it might be a little inconvenient for Ki-chan… We should pick a good middle point location, then!”
“We will not,” said Midorima with resolution.
“I don’t want to see them, anyway,” Aomine added. “Especially stick in the ass over here.”
“As usual you’re a fool with not even a modicum of politesse, naturally.”
“Make it a street light.”
“Aw,” Momoi interjected with amusement, “neither of you mean that about not wanting to see anyone.”
Aomine protested this, and Momoi teased him in that you can’t tell if she’s just being sly or she’s really so saccharine way of hers, and it escalated into one of their usual spats that didn’t hold much weight at all. Midorima listened as if held hostage even from a distance.
What were they doing? They were always joined together by the hip. Surely there was only so much of someone you could have before getting sick of them, yet from what he could tell they still hung out every day. Had done so since they were children.
Then Midorima decided, after some consideration, that he didn’t want to know, actually.
“You are disordered,” he said frankly, not addressing any specific party, or elaborating on what he meant by his remark.
“Shut up!”
“Don’t be like that!”
He hung up, and stared ahead at the convenience store in front of him like it was scenic for a little while.
…
A day came where Midorima went out of his way to ask her about this in the most incurious tone possible, the wording of the question carefully calculated so as to not reveal any deeper interest in the topic.
She smiled at him, full of warmth, and then glanced off to the side. “I guess maybe it’s kind of like how Takao pushes your rickshaw, even though he doesn’t get anything out of it.”
Midorima scoffed. He disliked the analogy, since it put him in the same boat — or in this case cart — as Aomine.
II.
Kise was the beaming sun. He smiled for no apparent reason, or even when nothing good was happening. Like for example when he saw Momoi and Aomine at Inter High.
It hadn’t been their game, so it was clearly some intel gathering Momoi was doing, though he hadn’t seen them in the stands. They were already on their way out and the whole gym had been deserted by both competitors and spectators alike by the time Kise yelled out their nicknames and hurried to catch up to them.
Aomine yawned and stood with his weight leaning on one foot and a hand in his pocket while the other picked imaginary mucus out of his eyes. Clearly he was pretending he was disinterested and fighting off a nap. “What?”
“Ki-chan!” At least he could count on Momoi to match his enthusiasm because she sprinted towards him and then jumped on him to give him a hug which seemed more like an attack, and he caught her and spun her around for a little, this huge grin on his face. The way they were acting you would’ve thought they hadn’t seen each other in a decade, even though it was only a few months.
Aomine, in an act of bravery, resisted the urge to inch away and pretend he has no association with them. (Not like he’d ever, really.)
Kise put Momoi back down to the floor gently. She smiled up at him with sweetness, and his eyes darted between her and then Aomine. A frequent point of whining came upon his mind, then. “Any plans to get in touch with Kurokocchi for the weekend soon? You can’t hog him to yourselves, you know? Give me a ring and I’ll swing by!”
“I’ll let you know whe-”
With a cling of his tongue, Aomine interrupted, which earned him a glare and a nudge in the ribs from Momoi. For some incomprehensible reason, this made his poker face shift into a smirk. “Always up Tetsu’s ass. Give it a rest, man, you’re like a nagging girlfriend.”
“Dai-chan!” Momoi hissed. “Be nice.”
“What? It’s true,” he mumbled into her ear after leaning down — his attempts at discretion were neither successful nor appreciated — while Kise stared at him, offended.
Then Kise sought sympathy and solidarity from Momoi, putting on the most pitiful expression he could muster. “Momoicchi, look at how he treats us!”
“Don’t kid yourself. You’re nothing like her. She doesn’t nag where it isn’t enjoyed.”
An owlish blink came from her as Kise whined at the taunts even though he knew not to take what Aomine was saying to heart. A flush to her cheeks, even, but of course Dai-chan had to ruin everything by resting his forearm on the top of her head while he continued having the glib argument with Kise. She ducked out from under him and kicked his ankle this time, and it seemed to cause him even more joy than her earlier jab.
“So you think you guys’ company is more wanted by Kurokocchi than mine?!” asked Kise, scandalized.
“Naturally.” Aomine pushed up a pair of imaginary glasses over his nose, and then laughed like he was delighted by his own Midorima impression. Although it was a little amusing, Momoi rolled her eyes.
“Hmph.” Kise puffed out his cheeks, and then immediately gave up on acting mad. “I’m surprised you’re even here, to be honest. Momoicchi, you’ve got a real knack for dragging him places.” This was a skill he perhaps admired, since he stared at her in wonder.
“Oh, he came willingly!” she said with great excitement, eyes sparkling. It was nice not to have to beg Aomine to spend time with her anymore. Sure, he still did his customary grumbling before caving, but they both knew it was nothing more than a precursor at this point. Things were alright now.
Aomine scratched his ear with his pinky. “I’m better off coming here. Last time I didn’t, those psychopaths Satsuki and Imayoshi captured me in a rug and dragged me up the stairs!”
“Aww, Dai-chan,” said Momoi with this soft, dreamy look plastered on her face as if she was fondly reminiscing the memory of… kidnapping him.
“Bleh!”
It struck Kise that they were both… odd. To top it off, they were both particularly strange about each other. The realization was almost comical with how belated it was.
III.
By coincidence, Kuroko and Kagami stumbled upon Aomine and Momoi while out shopping. Aomine was swamped in bags, some his and some hers, but despite his grumbling throughout the ordeal, he was the one who kept grabbing them from her hold. It was no surprise they did this together — Aomine didn’t like going places by himself. Or more accurately, he disliked doing things without Momoi.
As usual, Kuroko was amicable with his friends, though Kagami was unnerved, preemptively preparing himself for something strange to happen. By themselves, they were likable within their own merits. But together… They confused him in a way that left him convinced he was better off not saying anything. Not after the embarrassment that was the collective response from the team to his asking why Momoi cared so much about what Aomine thought, anyway.
They all sat across from each other. The table was buried in food, and Kagami had the disconcerting thought that it was like some kind of double date, even though his feelings towards Kuroko were platonic and casual… of course, totally… and besides, Momoi was into Kuroko, not Aomine! She had made that clear.
Kagami was flustered by his revelation despite his inner justifications, but he decided he was merely being delusional.
Momoi babbled with a degree of elation which was off-putting. She’d been like that ever since Kuroko fulfilled his promise to her, and things went back to a form of normality between her and Aomine. “Tetsu-kun, Kagamin, I’m so happy we saw each other today. It’s been so long.”
“We should play some ball later,” Kagami suggested.
“There is no ball,” said Kuroko in a monotone, deciding to rain on his parade, even though he’d already got himself pumped up at the notion.
With a smile, Momoi said, “Ah, sad. We could’ve played a two-on-two. And it’s always exciting watching everyone play and have fun.”
“You can play?” asked Kagami, seeming surprised.
“A little.” Her strengths lied outside the court, it was true, but she thought it could’ve been a blast as long as it wasn’t anything too serious. And still, as long as there was enough data to analyze, she found it stimulating even from the sidelines. Bubbliness popped into discontent as she regarded Aomine with a glance, though. “Dai-chan, you should participate in the conversation or at least chew with your mouth closed if you’re not gonna say anything.”
Aomine responded with something inarticulate through his mouthful that had Momoi’s eyebrows pinching together and her lips pouting in apparent disapproval before she slapped him on the arm. Then he unexpectedly corrected himself and took her advice on eating with more grace. “Anyway,” he said as if anyone besides Momoi understood what the hell he’d uttered previously, “I’m still nauseous after smelling all that shit. Need something to put it down.”
“You’re so dramatic.” The complaint went ignored as Aomine moved onto stealing from her portion. Momoi retaliated by taking a bunch of his fries, which he grumbled at but didn’t commit to even attempting to take back, and then she frowned a little in concern on the chance it had really made him sick. “If they’re really so strong, maybe we can skip out on the perfumes next time? You should’ve said something earlier!”
After lamenting this in his head — skipping out on the perfumes would rid him of a huge enough chunk of time spent with Momoi during these outings that the one positive was not worth it — and he intelligently said, “Huh? Nah,” before taking another big bite of his burger.
They Dai-chan and Satsuki -ed at each other between swapping bits from their meals, having some unclear half-conversation that was impossible to make out without whatever apparent telepathy they seemed to have, also somehow engaging Kuroko and Kagami, and Aomine kept tucking back strands of Momoi’s hair while she ate so it would not get dirty while she dabbed off sauce and crumbs from his face with a napkin.
It was chaotic and fussy. Kagami felt like he was seeing something he shouldn’t have, not for impropriety, but rather because they were always in their own little world and coming too close gave off the impression of encroaching.
Kuroko was accustomed to this and observed with his usual listlessness. Once again he found a way to awe Kagami.
They separated ways past sunset and Momoi waved back at them over her shoulder for way too long and with way too much enthusiasm as Aomine trudged by her side, hands in his pockets. Aomine called it ‘walking her home’ even though they lived in the same neighborhood and were heading in the same direction anyway.
“Jeez, you weren’t kidding. They really are like that all the time.”
Kagami crossed his arms and sighed. For someone prickly, he could be sheepish about this kind of thing.
His grievance was met with silence. Kuroko stared at him intently, obscured by darkness, and Kagami could only make out his features due to the moonlight. It was clear he was paying attention, yet his expression remained impassive and he gave no indication he was going to reply.
Kagami rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I still don’t understand them with the whole thing…” The statement was not worded well and he supplied it with vague hand gestures between Kuroko and where the pair walked off as if that was enough to summarize their history and their relations and all.
“I think Momoi-san pays less mind to me than she realizes.” Kuroko shrugged and went off on his own at a slow pace, expecting Kagami to join him. It was late and they needed to return as well.
Kagami blinked at his back before returning to his side again. His nonchalance at the fact he dropped such insight — what a succinct way to convey it — again stirred a tenderness within Kagami towards his teammate that he didn’t quite know what to do with.
And what he said was true, anyone could tell. Maybe not overall — Momoi was the type who thought about her friends a lot and tirelessly — but at least in comparison, whatever they were to each other, there was one person she heeded the most.