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‘This is stupid,’ Aomine murmured into the cloth that Momoi was currently re-applying for his ears to hold. ‘Why do I even need the mask to be on my mouth?’
‘Because that’s how Sakurai-kun designed your look,’ she said, swatting away his hand hat tried to scratch under the silken fabric. ‘Would you stay put?’
Well, it did take him a while, but he would. Cursing his friend, and Sakurai’s mother for instilling an affinity for clothes in him, he sat still while Momoi finished getting him ready for the ball that he did not want to go to.
The whole thing was stupid. Momoi had some crooked ideas of fun, especially during the wintertime – the only thing worse from that excruciating Christmas sale was the winter masquerade. Aomine didn’t particularly care for all the holidays December had to offer, just like he didn’t particularly care about holidays at all, and participating in social events like this was one of his worst nightmares.
Dancing, loud music, and the need to appeal to people? Please. He would rather shoot himself in the foot.
He had to hand it to them, though, the location was beautiful. The city had let their district rent out the local art gallery, currently unoccupied, for the night. Which meant that the garlands and the fairy lights were all ran up around robust columns, illuminating the wide marble halls and leading unsuspecting visitors towards the biggest room inside the building.
And he could at least hide his face. There was some comfort in anonymity.
‘I hope I can sneak some booze from one of these places,’ he grunted, begrudgingly following Momoi who was leading him by the hand deeper into the gallery. She was a sight to behold with her long, deep rose gown and her glittery, magenta mask. Perhaps it would have been too much pink for anybody else, but Momoi wore it better than gold.
‘Dai-chan!’ she pouted, which immediately brought Aomine’s line of thought back to how annoying she is, actually. ‘You promised you’d behave tonight.’
‘I might have,’ he grinned, ‘but I didn’t say how.’
Before the heel of her palm would have collided with his temple, Aomine gracefully spun out of her hold, catching up to her in a half step of his long legs. As he did, he found himself in the main entrance of what looked like the ballroom.
Everywhere his eyes went, there were branches of pine trees decorated with fake snow and mistletoes. There was one giant tree in the corner of the room that people left gifts at for charity, and another stand where donations were given in exchange for food and drinks. From the speakers, covers of Christmas songs came through softly, and there were only a few people holding onto their partners and swaying comfortably on the dance floor. Others were chatting, eating or drinking – all dressed up in colorful clothes and mysterious masks, a huge contrast from the light blue decorations and lights of the hall.
Before Aomine could notice, Momoi had taken off to blend in with the crowd. Maybe she’d told him to stay put, maybe she said she’d get drinks, but none of those had gotten through to him, as he was too occupied with taking in the sight of the ball. He was quite entranced, surprisingly so – but it was not an unwelcome surprise.
Instead of waiting around with his thumbs in his pocket, he looked around, hoping to see a few familiar faces. Maybe Sakurai or Wakamatsu would be near, but Aomine barely would have recognized them with their masks on anyway.
Except that he didn’t see them at all. But he did see someone – someone tall, and dark, and absolutely breathtaking. The cool lights of the festival made his bright red attire appear almost black, which contrasted the golden threads his suit was laced with beautifully. He had an intricate face mask on, one that was half white and half black, with cracks of red following the lines of where his actual face would be. Aomine was reminded of his mother’s kintsugi bowls on display in their living room, his fascination with the method he was explained when he was only five years old.
‘Well then, why can’t we do this with every plate I break?’ Aomine asked back then, a bothered pout puffing out his round face. His mother smiled, bursting the air bubble in the confines of his mouth with the press of her two fingers.
‘Because you need to study this technique before applying it,’ his mother, the ever-pragmatic woman chided softly. ‘You need an entire workshop and all the tools, and we have neither.’
‘When I grow up,’ he said with his eyes shining, ‘I want to be a person who mends things!’
‘Would you like to dance?’ A sultry voice called out to him, closer than comfort. Aomine feared he jumped out of his mask with how shocked he was, but a quick touch to his cheek confirmed that his disguise was still intact.
Looking up, his eyes met with the attractive strangers’ ones. In the shadow of the eyeholes on his mask, his eyes seemed dark brown.
‘No- huh? I mean… Why do you think I want to dance?’ Aomine huffed, trying to gather his thoughts. When did he even get that close?
‘You just seemed to be staring at me a lot,’ Possibly Handsome Stranger answered with a smile in his voice, and his palm extended towards Aomine. ‘Come on. Are you planning to just stand around all evening?’
He was right. He needed to do something with himself before he would A) spontaneously combust from embarrassment, B) stand out too much from the crowd or C) died of boredom. And, well… dancing with somebody who was easy on the eyes was definitely one of the least unsavory things he could think of to do on this event.
Sighing softly to himself, he slid his hand into the stranger’s palm.
‘So what brings you here?’ the stranger asked, pulling him in and placing his hand on his waist. It wasn’t an invasive move, but it was firm enough for Aomine to blush underneath his mask. He just hoped that the cloth and the lights offered enough to hide him.
‘My friend, mostly,’ he admitted, ‘I didn’t really want to come, but she made me.’
‘And where is this friend now?’
‘Running off, living her best life.’ Aomine shrugged, ‘She usually does this. Talks me into doing something I don’t want to do, and leaves me to suffer alone.’
The stranger made a noise that sounded like an affirmative hum. ‘So you knew you’d be left behind and you still came with your friend? Sounds like you’re a pretty reliable guy.’
Aomine’s hand twitched where it lay over the stranger’s shoulder, fisting into his suit jacket. He looked down, only to take a glance at their waltzing feet.
‘I don’t know about that…’ he mumbled, ‘She’s just pretty scary.’
‘I don’t see you getting scared that easily,’ he said, his eyes smiling. Aomine lifted his head to take a peek at the parts of his face handing out the mask – the bangs that have been gelled back to his forehead, the brick-colored eyes, his chin with a short, groomed goatee speckled with red. Even if he couldn’t see underneath, having a good idea of the shape of his face he considered him handsome.
‘And what about you?’ he asked, squeezing his shoulder, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Dancing,’ he answered, ‘Having fun. Getting to know people I never would have met otherwise.’
‘Any interesting folks?’ Aomine wagged his eyebrows curiously.
‘There’s this guy, I guess,’ he said coyly, ‘He seems nice. Funny and humble. He was practically staring a hole to my skull so I asked him to dance, but he’s kind of a lousy dancer.’
Aomine blushed to the tip of his ears.
‘Well, sorry about that…’
‘No need,’ the stranger chuckled. ‘Say, do you believe in Christmas miracles?’
‘That’s a very odd thing to ask somebody you just met,’ Aomine groaned, ‘and pointless, too. Nobody believes in Christmas miracles. It’s just a made-up celebration supported by capitalism and people’s naivety.’
‘Then you must think I’m naïve as well,’ he said, more quietly than before.
Before Aomine had the chance to apologize, the stranger pulled away from him. There was a sad smile in his eyes, one that churned something deep inside Aomine’s gut.
Why did he have to be such a party pooper?
‘Meet me in the backyard in thirty minutes,’ the stranger stated, turning away with a wink. And with that, Aomine was left there, speechless, confused, and strangely buzzed with the promise of meeting him again.
That was before Momoi crashed into him just as he was about to turn her way, pouring punch down his jacket.
Thirty minutes have flown by with Momoi, paired with Wakamatsu and Sakurai who she had previously ran into on her way to get themselves drinks. They were exchanging stories and plans for the holidays until a glance to his phone let Aomine know that he was indeed running late to his rendezvous with the mysterious courter. Excusing himself and leaving his punch-stained jacket behind, he rushed through the ballroom and out to the cold, looking for a backyard through the door behind the rich curtains.
There was only one person outside, smoking a cigarette and leaning with his back against the wall, and he wasn’t wearing a mask anymore. With his heart pounding, Aomine approached him, only to recognize somebody he wouldn’t have expected to see.
‘You’re not very sharp,’ Kagami said dryly.
‘I was held up, I apologize,’ Aomine confessed, leaning half against the wall and half against the other’s shoulder. Plucking the cigarette from his hands, he took a drag, the smoke melting into his foggy breath.
‘I mean that you’re not wearing your suit jacket,’ he pointed out, ‘And that you’re very dumb for not recognizing me.’
‘Hey!’ he exclaimed, choking on his next pull. Kagami chuckled, stealing back his cigarette. Aomine watched him raise it to his lips, and wondered when he got that goatee on him. He didn’t remember seeing him with that, but then again, they haven’t met in a while.
‘You were a bit more suave and well dressed than I remember you to be,’ he murmured, linking his arm into Kagami’s.
‘Is it an unwelcome surprise?’ he asked, raising a forked brow.
‘I wouldn’t say that.’
It all happened so fast after that. Aomine was just about to move away when Kagami turned to look at him directly, grabbing him by the jaw and pulling his mask to the side with a thumb hooked into the fabric. In a split second, his mouth was on his, tasting like sweets and fruits and burnt tobacco.
Aomine felt his heart beat out of his chest. His body instinctively moved closer to the other’s warmth and away from the cold, and he felt his lips slide together with Kagami’s own – he kissed him back without even thinking about it, clinging into his clothes like that’s the last thing he’s ever going to do.
As they parted, Kagami also seemed to be breathing hard. The cigarette was still burning between his fingertips, making their eyes tear up with the smoke so close, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go, not even to throw it away.
‘Was that an unwelcome surprise?’ he whispered breathlessly.
Aomine considered his face for a second, leaning into the palm against his face.
‘No,’ he smiled, ‘It was a Christmas miracle.’