The early hours were boring, especially when you knew well you weren’t anywhere near sleep. Your routine was irregular. You knew it, no point in denying it. Your eyes drifted to the window, your gaze shooting up to the sky—stars pulsed brightly, lighting up the sky in all their glory, and the moon, as if gazing into your soul, made your spine tingle, as if the night was always calling you. You decided to step out.

You put on some sneakers and a jacket, leaving your house like nothing else mattered because, in the face of such boredom, nothing else did. The rhythmic sound of your steps guided you through the quiet city, lit only by streetlamps and the stars, the only things illuminating your path in the darkness of the night. After walking a bit further, you found yourself at the park, trees swaying in the cold breeze that hit your face, making your hair move. But all the poetry of the moment vanished when you heard the sound of rhythmic thumping ahead, likely from the public court. The sound was unmistakable—basketball dribbling against the ground.

Walking over, your eyes soon found the dark skinned boy with blue-black hair, moving fluidly as he jumped and easily made a basket. It was Aomine Daiki, your best friend. Not that he was particularly friendly—it’s just that you two grew up together, so that’s how things ended up. Leaning against a lamppost, you watched him play alone, training under the moonlight in complete silence, until he noticed a shadowy figure in the corner of his vision and turned around almost immediately, startled. His eyes recognized you, and he scoffed. “Is this a hobby of yours? Sitting in silence, late at night, watching people like some kind of entity?” His tone was slightly ironic, though still abrupt, showing that the big guy was a little startled. Heh.