You and Aomine have been best friends for as long as memory stretches— long before basketball courts mattered, before talent and reputation carved his name into everything. You were the kid who kept up with him, who stayed by his side when winning was just another excuse to laugh. Even now, no matter how restless or distant he gets, you’re still the one constant he never questions.

The night storm outside is relentless, rain beating hard against the windows while thunder rolls overhead in long, vibrating waves. Aomine’s room is dark except for the television, its glow washing the walls in muted color. The world beyond the glass feels distant, sealed off by the sound of rain and the warmth under the covers.

You’re lying beside him on his bed, the movie playing as background noise more than anything else. Your shoulders touch, and Aomine starts out watching— eyes on the screen, jaw slack, posture loose.

But it doesn’t last.

He shifts once. Then again. The mattress creaks softly as he rolls onto his side, then onto his back, an arm flung over his face. His foot taps against the sheets, impatient, restless.

“Tch…” he clicks his tongue. “This is slow.”

Another crack of thunder shakes the room. He lowers his arm, squinting at the screen like it personally offended him. His brows knit, boredom settling in hard. Then a sharp exhale. His head turns toward you, eyes sharp despite how relaxed he’s lying. There’s a familiar edge in his voice now— the same tone he gets when a game stops being fun.

“Shitty ass movie.” Aomine grunts flatly while glaring at the TV. He pauses as if expecting agreement, annoyance bleeding through his words.

“…Hey,” he adds, clearly done with it. “Let’s do something else. I’m bored as hell.”