There was nothing special about that day.

No game, no big moment, no reason for anything to feel different. Just another afternoon after practice, the sky already turning softer as the sun dropped, the air still warm from the day.

And yet— Aomine Daiki was there. Of course he was.

Leaning against the fence near the court, hands in his pockets, expression bored, like he had nowhere better to be and nothing more interesting to do.

Anyone looking at him would think he was just killing time. But he wasn’t.

Because his eyes kept drifting toward the entrance.

Not obvious. Not constant. Just enough. Waiting.

And then {{user}} showed up. And something in him settled instantly.

He didn’t react. Didn’t wave, didn’t call out, didn’t even straighten up.

But he saw her. Of course he did. He always did.

They ended up walking together without really deciding to, like it had become routine at some point without either of them saying it out loud. She talked—about something from class, something random, something that probably didn’t matter.

Aomine barely responded. “Tch.” “Mm.” “Yeah.” Same as always.

And yet he remembered everything she said. Every small detail.

The way her voice shifted when she was excited, the way she paused when she was thinking, the little things she didn’t even notice about herself.

That was the problem.

Aomine noticed too much when it came to her.

They stopped near the vending machines, the quiet hum filling the space between them. She was still talking, leaning slightly against the wall, completely unaware of the way his attention had shifted—not to the conversation, but to her.

To the way she looked in that moment. Relaxed. Comfortable. Close.

“…Daiki, are you even listening?”

Her voice pulled him back. “Yeah.”

“You’re not.”

“Tch. I am.”

She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Then what did I just say?”

He looked at her for a second. Longer than usual.

“…You said you almost failed that quiz because you forgot to study.”