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Mayuzumi comes to the inevitable conclusion that his interactions with Kuroko — or the lack thereof — starts with initial reluctance, to inner self-debate, then ends with experimental impulse uncalled for.
At least, it applies to him. He can never truly tell for sure when it comes to Kuroko.
If he’s lucky, he can evade any form of interaction altogether, but that is hardly the case when he is faced with the situation.
The moment he does attempt to be civil and establish some common ground between them, when he tries to ease through the animosity for the sake of conversation (and he believes this isn't one-sided — no, not at all), he withdraws when he notices he’s venturing far too deep.
There is no point in stepping over boundaries, no point in being intrigued.
However, Mayuzumi has yet to master putting up a front when the odds are against his favor.
“Mayuzumi-san,” Kuroko’s voice skewers through Mayuzumi’s thoughts like a needle on fabric, “there is something in my eye.”
It has never been a walk in the park to figure out what Kuroko is thinking during these situations — or if he ever thinks about it at all — when he chooses to be reliant in matters as trivial as this. Needless to say, Kuroko’s passive nature proves to be more infuriating than his active approach, so Mayuzumi concedes, and he’s then left to wonder if he’s just being excessively cautious for no reason.
“And what do you want me to do about it?” Mayuzumi spares him a glance, failing to hide the look of distaste on his face despite it being the least of Kuroko's concerns.
No response comes from Kuroko, nothing that can push Mayuzumi to initiate, anyway. To be fair, Kuroko wasn't expecting any help, so he simply resigns to handling his predicament on his own.
In retrospect, they are more alike than what Mayuzumi brings himself to acknowledge; just that he has developed a habit of filtering any semblance he has with Kuroko in some way. A defense mechanism, if he has to tack a term on it. When he asks himself why this occurs, it all narrows down to the fact that he is his own person, as Kuroko is himself, yet the tendency of comparison between them remains ineluctable.
He’s older, stronger… better.
And yet —
“Don’t scratch it, you’re making it worse,” Mayuzumi quips, but Kuroko hears none of it, not even a bit when he persists to rub his knuckles over closed eyelids.
Retreat, his mind tells him, but it may have been because Kuroko just doesn't listen that it grates at his nerves. So Mayuzumi’s tucks his finger under Kuroko’s chin to incline his head upwards and brushes off the obtrusive hand in the way, watching Kuroko blink in confusion and at the nagging itch in his eye.
For a second, Kuroko struggles to peer for sight, and Mayuzumi takes the opportunity to blow on the irritated eye without warning.
A flinch and a couple more blinks later, it manages to do its job in the end.
Eyelids squeezed shut, face scrunched together in a way Mayuzumi wouldn't shouldn't consider the least bit attractive, Kuroko awaits for the obstructive particle to dissipate.
Mayuzumi continues to observe in silence.
One thing he has learned from that time he allowed himself to be piqued with interest, is that being a senior doesn't necessarily dictate superiority; it’s a fact Mayuzumi has come to realize months ago but still stubbornly and persistently denies.
On rare occasions such as this, he also forgets to think, to put up defenses when it’s due.
So in a matter of seconds, when he descends and makes a single connection, he convinces himself that it’s purely on pulse.
But when he lingers and stays, for once, he is willing.