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It was convenience, more than anything, that prompted Aomine and Kagami to become roommates and share an apartment right next to the train station that was halfway between both of their university campuses. None of their other friends were studying in that area of the city, and living together would also give the two a chance to keep up their constant cycle of one-on-one games, trips to Maji’s and lazing about on Kagami’s couch watching TV or playing video games.
For Aomine, there was the added bonus of having a roommate with actual life skills and a passion for cooking, since he himself was terrible at chores. Kagami wasn’t surprised in the least, knowing what a mess Aomine’s room back home looked like and having to constantly pick up after him when he was over, so he took it all in stride.
The redhead didn’t mind cleaning; he found it relaxing, just like cooking, but when he cooked these days, there was always the added stress of having to keep Aomine’s greedy fingers from stealing samples from his pots and pans. So in a way, cleaning and tidying up was even more relaxing for Kagami than cooking, and as long as Aomine made a slight effort not to be a total slob, he was content to do the rest.
It was a bit weird at first, getting used to living together. They’d been hanging around each other plenty before, but now it was almost constant, since they had similar class and basketball training schedules, so their time back at the apartment overlapped very often. Plus, since they both slept there, every morning was a routine of greetings, breakfast prepared by Kagami, and fighting to get the first shower before rushing to get dressed and make it to the train station on time.
The first time Aomine came home to see Kagami sitting in the living room folding their laundry, his hands full of Aomine’s underwear, the blue-haired man squeaked in sudden embarrassment and rushed to his room, suddenly overwhelmed by something he couldn’t quite understand and confused at why he found their new, intense domesticity so… endearing.
The two didn’t bring it up, but something started to shift between them. Looks, smiles, touches began to linger. Aomine started buying things for Kagami, little gifts he claimed were as thanks for putting up with him. They ranged from kitchen tools and gadgets to DVDs of American movies to clothes that were always a perfect fit and suited Kagami wonderfully.
Kagami returned the favours by occasionally packing Aomine a bento when he had the time. The redhead had always loved how much his friend adored eating the food he prepared, and it warmed his heart (and his cheeks) to know that the blue-haired man would be enjoying his special lunches at school too.
They were growing closer and closer, not oblivious to how their worlds were slowly tilting them towards one another, blurring the lines between where each of them began and ended, their lives so wrapped up in each other it would be impossible to separate fully from the other without leaving a part of themselves behind. They knew it, they each felt it in their own way, but did nothing to stop it—they didn’t want to. But they also never made any effort to consciously move things forward, and for now that was more than good enough for them.
~~~
The two were both blissfully unaware of the impressions Aomine’s classmates on the basketball team were starting to get. It had been obvious to them from day one how lazy and messy Aomine was; he left his clothes everywhere on the locker room when he got changed for practice, he’d steal drinks from people’s hands instead of going to get his own, and he was constantly napping in class and having to borrow other people’s notes in order to understand what was being taught. For lunch he always ate fast food and the coaches were already nagging him about trying to eat healthier, to follow an athlete’s recommended diet. Aomine was also constantly talking about how much he loved boobs, not at all shy or embarrassed to brag about and share his impressive collection of porn mags featuring scantily-clad, big-breasted women.
So they had every reason to be suspicious of why Aomine always showed up with clean gym clothes, even though he was the type to not even know the difference between the washing machine and the dryer. His classmates knew he didn’t live with his parents, so who was doing his laundry?
This was how the rumours of Aomine’s girlfriend began.
Because he had to have a girlfriend. It just didn’t make any sense otherwise. He always had clean clothes, always talked about having had the “best breakfast ever” that day, and was somehow always up and on time even for their early morning practices. From that they guessed she must live with him, and when a couple months in Aomine started showing up with perfectly prepared, delicious-smelling bento lunches, the idea was cemented in their minds: Aomine definitely had a girlfriend.
Someone suggested he might even have a wife, but was quickly shot down because the blue-haired ace never wore a ring, and they were all still much too young for marriage anyways. But they couldn’t help but notice, that one time they secretly followed him to the mall and watched him buy a gift from a fancy cookware store, how his eyes would light up as he looked down at the carefully wrapped package, a small but genuinely fond smile tugging at his lips—a smile his classmates had only ever seen before when Aomine was opening his bentos, not realizing all eyes were on him.
So when their first official match of the year was announced, Aomine’s classmates on the team were perhaps even more excited by the prospect of finally getting to meet Aomine’s girlfriend than the game itself. Because there was no way she wouldn’t come; the “great” Aomine Daiki would never date a girl who wasn’t interested in watching him play, and he was extremely talented.
Since none of the other first-years were good enough yet to play on the starting lineup, or even the backup lineup, they spent their time during the on-court warmup trying to see if they could pick out Aomine’s girlfriend from the crowd. His classmates looked for a girl who was sure to be everything the blue-haired ace raved about regarding women: short, with nice hair and big boobs. She had to be a sweetheart too, if she put up with Aomine and cleaned and cooked for him too. They had found a few possible girls, but so far their classmate had yet to even glance at the stands—he was too absorbed in his heated pre-game argument with the other team’s first-year ace, a fiery redhead who was apparently his high-school rival.
They sighed as they took their places on the bench; Aomine’s classmates would have to wait until the end of the game for a chance to see the girlfriend.
And what a game it was: intense from start to finish, both team’s young aces constantly battling for dominance on the court, as if none of the other players existed. Aomine’s teammates were aware he could be quite selfish with the ball at times, and though they’d love to chew him out for it, they were all too entranced by the mesmerizing sight of the two playing, red and blue just a blur on the court as they plunged into the Zone.
It was a tight game, but the older students on Kagami’s team were well-experienced in defence and their overall skill helped tilt the score in their favour by the time the final buzzer sounded. As Aomine stood on the court, panting and sweating as his body’s exhaustion finally caught up with him, he tilted back his head and closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with the same sensation he had felt all those years back when Kagami and Seirin had beaten him for the first time: complete.
When Kagami came up to him, tugging as his jersey to get his attention and blasting his his signature warm smile, Aomine finally understood what his heart wanted.
~~~
The first-years on the team kept a close eye on Aomine as they left the court and went back to their locker room to see if he made any sort of contact with a girl. The guy had a strange smile on his face and didn’t engage into conversation with anyone, not even when one of the loudmouth second-years yelled at him for hogging the ball all game. They changed quickly but got held back when the coach came to give his post-game remarks, letting out frustrating groans when they realized afterwards that Aomine had slipped out of the room unseen and they had missed their chance to follow him.
Since the game had been a home game for them, they dejectedly made their way back to the basketball team’s clubroom to store their team’s practice gear, the task having been dumped on them by the older boys.
However, what they saw when the opened the clubroom door made them all freeze in their tracks. There was Aomine, locked in a passionate embrace with none other than the redheaded ace from the team that had just beaten them. The two were oblivious to the intrusion, too lost in how their tongues explored each other’s mouth while their hands were wound tight into damp locks or were busy tracing the contours of defined muscle and warm skin.
The door slowly closed shut on its own without anyone to keep holding it open. The first-years just kept standing there, their minds still processing what they had just witnessed.
Finally, someone dared to break the silence:
“I, uh, don’t think Aomine has a girlfriend, guys.”