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He knows. She knows. They all know.
They all know of her beautiful, overwhelming crush on Tetsu-kun. Of her chatty self when she misses his voice, of her repurposed roses from other guys that she gives to her Tetsu-kun, of her ambiguous Tiktok reposts that all circle back to one boy, of her open, unafraid self when his name is thrown into a conversation.
Aomine knows it too; of course he does, it's far too difficult to ignore it when it's the only thing she's known for at this point. He hears of rumors that circle the school about her and Tetsu, about how they might like eachother and it's not one-sided. He listens to her dismiss said rumors sarcastically, with a tone that definitely says they're true. He knows, and that's why he keeps his distance.
That's why he doesn't touch the skin of her hand when they walk anymore. That's why he listens to her ramble about Tetsu, even if he would tune it out if she were anybody else (but she is not; she is Satsuki and that's the only reason he listens). That's why he sits at another table with another one of his friends, eavesdropping on Tetsu and Satsuki's conversation not too far away. Because he respects Satsuki, and he respects Tetsu, and he lets them be.
He doesn't want to think of himself as an obstacle in their relationship; in fact, he's far from it. He just thinks that Satsuki— no, Momoi would be happier with Tetsu than with him, even if he thinks he could treat her better than Tetsu if he were just given the chance. He knows this, actually. He knows Momoi would be happy if they remained friends, so he respects her boundaries and leaves her far off with Tetsu while he sulks for no particular reason.
But sometimes, when he's alone in his room, thinking about some passion of his— basketball, let's say— his thoughts drift to Tetsu and Momoi, and a metallic taste rubs on his tongue.
They don't look good together, he thinks, but he brushes the thought off and curses himself for even thinking it.
He's Momoi's friend! He's supposed to support her and her decisions when it comes to guys!
To that he responds by picking up his phone and stalking her reposts one more time.
Momoi doesn't cry when she says it, but he can see she wants to by the hairs on her arms standing up.
Aomine wants to cry too. But he doesn't. He never does, really.
After all, he always knew they didn't fit together. Momoi was far too focused on Tetsu and Tetsu had better things to do than get with her. They didn't look good when standing next to eachother. They didn't really speak to eachother unless it was thinly veiled flirting from Momoi's side. They didn't have anything they liked together.
But everyone was rooting for her.
So Aomine feels the weight the truth has on his shoulders— he feels her fear of letting everyone down, of letting go of the one boy she wanted, of having to force words out of her throat just so she can get it out. He feels all of it. He feels for her.
He continues to keep his distance.
Even if there's no Tetsu he has to be wary of, he knows there's a Tetsu-kun in her heart that he doesn't want to disturb. He knows it's no use shooting if there's an invisible barrier between him and the hoop. He knows the wound is still fresh, so he doesn't mention it, in fear of her being insecure. He respects Momoi, and her now pushed away love for Tetsu.
But, with this period of silence, he decides to take a step forward. He decides to make up for the lost time.
He doesn't shoot, but he dribbles to get a bit closer to the hoop.
Satsuki trusts him now.
Atleast that's what he likes to believe.
Satsuki talks to him daily, makes side comments to him of all people, has inside jokes with him, maybe even comes to him first when in a time of need. She converses with him more now than she has the entire year before. She's even stopped discussing Kuroko entirely. Aomine feels safe.
He knows there's a bubble he has to pop to continue on, to get closer. He knows there will be a massive obstacle between him and that cursed hoop. He doesn't know whether it'll be Kuroko or some other thing he didn't see coming, but he knows it'll be there. He's smart enough to figure out he can't charge head on without being countered.
So he waits. Again.
The bubble waits for him to pop it. He sees right through it, and a vague figure enters his vision. Obviously, this is the last battle. He knows the second he pops that bubble, it'll be a fight to the death.
If he loses here, he loses her.
Aomine stands before the bubble, lifts his finger, and—
Puts it back down.
When he comes back to reality, he realises Satsuki is silent. The sound of teasing choruses in his ears, but he only ducks his head and hides. He knows this isn't a game.
He knows this because Satsuki's head is lowered, covered, maybe. She's tuning out the teasing as well. He wants to believe she's blushing, but when he peers closer, her face is as pale as ever
She's uncomfortable.
There's no ship that can replace the Kuroko-shaped hole in Satsuki's heart. There's no teasing remark that can convince her to give Aomine a chance. There's no joke that will land when it comes to her old boyfriend. Supposed boyfriend atleast. Aomine has no clue either.
But the teasing comes back. Aomine believes in it, in their rumors. He hopes and prays when he's alone in his room that they come true. He finds himself more careful with his words, trying not to cause misunderstandings, but deep down he knows he wishes for a misunderstanding everyday.
He doesn't want to pop that bubble.
He wants someone else to pop it for him, so he can pass with ease.
He wants to pass the ball so it can be given back to him and he scores.
But he knows no one will cheer for him if someone's backing him up.
Aomine really wants to believe Satsuki's actions are purposeful, that she's sending hints his way and he's just oblivious enough to not see them. But when he gazes closer— when he stalks her reposts for the nth time— he finds nothing is aimed at him. Actually, it's all aimed at that gaping hole in her heart.
He doesn't hate Kuroko. He respects Kuroko, and hopes that he finds his own freedom, his own love for someone, the same way Satsuki's delivered her love this entire time. He doesn't think they'd fit together, but if that's the only way he'll see Satsuki's pretty smile again...
He prays to the stars and beyond that he's oblivious and that someday, she'll turn her head from Tetsu-kun and to him.
For now, he dribbles the ball.
Sometimes, when one wishes so hard, they believe they've manifested their wish into existence, when in reality, they're blinded.
Daiki's begun to notice how close he's getting with Satsuki. He doesn't have to text first. She thinks of him when seeing specific videos. She starts reposting videos which he wants to believe are targeted at him. He wants to believe they're for him. He wants to believe that he has a chance, that he's close to the cursed hoop.
And so he believes in that.
He believes Satsuki is chattier than ever, that she gets red when he makes snarky comments, that her asking for a pen from him means something. He believes her friends teasing him means the one thing he's been wishing for. He believes that all this— her being unable to look him in the eye, her bantering with him, her being a tad bit louder when he's there, her eyes drifting to him when he enters— means something.
It brings him comfort.
And oh, how he missed comfort.
Now he's quite happy arriving to class, if it means he gets the chance to talk to Satsuki again, to break past that pesky bubble and finally shoot his shot. He hopes that that shot makes it in, like all his physical shots do.
Kuroko isn't in sight anymore. Even when Daiki peeks at Satsuki's heart, he sees the lack of a hole in it. He then wonders if he helped her heal from the mess that Kuroko was. He, of course, doesn't believe he has the right to insult Kuroko like that, but with the way things are going, he's begun to change his mind.
So, he's happy.
He's closer with Satsuki again, and there's no obstacles in the way.
Of course, he keeps his feet always on the floor, just to stay grounded. He doesn't want to wallow in his belief of Satsuki finally giving him the love he's craved, but he doesn't restrict himself either.
On the days where he cracks and decides to stalk her reposts again, he finds humorous videos. Not a single mention of Kuroko in sight.
Daiki plans someday to make the shot, when he's certain no one will pop up and block his shot.
He closes his phone, and lays peacefully in bed.
When he closes his eyes, he sees Satsuki again.
Daiki sits still, phone in hand, simply contemplating.
He didn't think this would happen again. No, not now, now that he was so close. He didn't think all his progress could go to waste like this.
No.
He shuts the phone off.
He doesn't have to read deep into her repost, for it's right before his eyes he sees it. He sees her, and he sees the memory of someone else.
He wanted to believe so hard that she had her eye on him. He wanted it so bad.
He didn't know how easy it was to break his mood.
Daiki opened his phone again, and right in front of him were those dreaded initials.
S + T.