He’d be at the mall shopping for a new outfit for his next shoot. The photographer advised in advance that he’d be able to style himself and Kise lunged for the opportunity. He’d asked you to come, but you had other things to attend to, so he was riding solo. When he sees your partner feeding someone across the table in the food court, he realizes it was for the best.
His first thought would be to call you. No. You might be somewhere you couldn’t answer your phone. So he takes a picture and texts you instead while hiding behind a pillar.
You ring his phone immediately. The two of you go back and forth until you come to an agreement and he hangs up.
In no time, Kise’s at the table glaring your soon-to-be ex-partner down while they stare at him dumbfounded.
“_________-cchi says it’s over. She’ll be leaving a box of your things outside her house so you can pick it up whenever you want. Also, she told me not to say anything, but I hate your guts so,” his smile dilutes. “If you talk to her ever again, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life.”
I really think that Akashi looks forward to times like these. When someone unveils their true colors and all of the bright primary hues they’ve painted on melts to gook right in front of his very eyes. He finds it interesting to witness since he works so hard to keep his paint strokes perfect.
So, when he discovers your significant other exchanging numbers with a caterer at a formal event hosted by his father, he feels a mixture of things: irritation, annoyance, and excitement. He’s not happy about the heartbreak you’re going to feel when he tells you the news, but he is curious as to why someone would jeopardize something so good: you were an amazing person that cared about your relationships deeply. You’d even gone to the extent of asking Akashi to help your partner get a job at his father’s company. He’d see an opportunity to study someone so he can use that knowledge for future reference and he’d take it. And, don’t think for a second that he won’t defend your name as well.
“I’ve always wondered why people throw away their good image and their treasures in life for the sake of something so temporary.” he sits down and crosses one leg over the other. “I think from just witnessing you throw away ________’s trust, you’d be the perfect person to help me understand. If you give me a solid explanation that I can empathize with I’ll think about letting you keep your job.”
He fires them as soon as they finish sputtering excuses.
Aomine’s not a nurturer. He never could grasp the idea of comforting someone—verbally or physically. It shakes his brain entirely too much giving him a pounding headache that seems to beat against the walls of his skull in a rhythm that leaves space for the thought of his borderline apathetic nature.
So, he leaves that chapter of the support system manual unscathed—not a page turned or folded over—and flips to the miscellaneous section in the back of the book that holds all the alternative strategies: like fucking up the person that pounded your heart to mush.
He confronts them head-on when he sees your significant other who’s walking hand in hand with another person while you’re out of town. As they pass the basketball court, while he’s entranced in a game of one-on-one with Kagami, he catches them out of the corner of his eye. One crossover and effortless dunk later, he’s in front of the couple, the adrenaline rush from the game making his delivery a bit more assertive than usual.
“Explain,” Aomine commands flapping his shirt from his chest. “If I don’t like it,” He glowers at your gaping partner and nods toward the court. “I’ll put that ball to your head.”
He just wants a vanilla milkshake. One measly milkshake—possibly with a cherry on top since this day has been a good one. But instead, he gets a visual that hurt even his heart: his best friend’s partner slurping a large shake with a stranger.
He’d be standing and then suddenly sitting next to your significant other, which scares the daylights out of the couple. His glare is vehement. Loud. Irate.
“I don’t think _______-kun would appreciate you sharing a milkshake with someone else.”
He’d be in a candy store stocking up on The Goods. When he sees “that person you ditch him for,” he’s indifferent about their presence. Then, he notices someone beside them nearing their face with a pocky stick in their mouth. His brows furrow slightly and it clicks when they oblige, pursing their lips over the naked end: that is not a friend and this is definitely not a normal outing.
He waltzes over and looms over them before pinching the stick in two easily. Then, he looks at your significant other with tired eyes that aren’t really that tired.
“________-chin never liked pocky so you’ve never been her type. Stay away from her from now on so she doesn’t have to deal with your pocky breath.”
He’d be leaving the gym with Takao. It’s dark out since they’d stayed well after practice ended. It isn’t him that notices, but Takao who grins and points at a couple kissing while they lean against a tree.
Midorima doesn’t pay them any attention until he hears a familiar voice while passing. He pauses and turns toward your cheating partner as they push the person away and hold their hands up guiltily. Midorima’s grimace deepens as Takao hops from toe-to-toe—enjoying the front row seat he’s snagged to mind your business.
“I’ll give you 12 hours to confess your infidelities nanodayo. If you don’t, I will advise ________ myself.”