"I'm really sorry, Tetsuya, but I don't think I will be able to make it this weekend. My schedule is completely filled, and I'm pretty sure it'll be extremely hard to make time for the date…"

How many times was this? Four? Five? Or perhaps even ten, considering he had stopped counting long ago?

"It's alright, Ritsuke-san. Is that all?"

"Well, Tetsuya, I mean―"

"If that's all, then I'll leave you to your work. Good night."

He hit the end button without a single bit of remorse. It had been several months now and he was still waiting for the girl to speak to him about her 'work'.

She was a singer, someone who only debuted about two or three years ago. About half a year ago, his friend, Kise Ryouta, had forcibly dragged him, who was the only one still single among their little group, other than another certain person, to a mixer that he had organized, in the hopes that his 'cute, little Kurokocchi' would finally find someone to lose it to. Of course, when he asked why the model hadn't invited the other person, Kise had just laughed nervously and hustled him into the large karaoke room that was dimly lit with strobing lights. Hoping to just staying invisible like he usually did, he had grabbed a cup of juice and nestled himself on a couch in the corner, quietly observing the other participants of the mixer. Kise, being Kise, had noticed his feeble attempt to escape the party with his misdirection and had immediately introduced the girl to him, seating the flustered Onoe Ritsuke right next to him. The model had winked at him and told him to 'just try it once' and quickly fled the scene to socialize with some other famous model.

Onoe Ritsuke. She was one of those girls who tried hard to look cute, taking advantage of her small stature, curling her long brown hair into beautiful curls and always wearing the most chic and fashionable clothes. There was never a chance where she did not add little bows or small clips to her hair and her nails were never seen to be anything less than perfectly trimmed and painted with simple, cute designs.

She was cute. Kuroko wasn't blind, as dense as he could be sometimes. Ritsuke had seemed pretty open, too; blushing lightly while suggesting they perhaps meet for coffee next Wednesday at a small café he knew he had heard somewhere before.

The meeting had been alright, though he would have preferred his usual vanilla shake over the cappuccino she had recommended to him.

Only a month later, she confessed to him, and he just nodded. She hugged him. They never kissed.

They went out at least once every week, oftentimes just Kuroko following behind her while she ran from one store to another, not that he ever blinked an eye when she handed him the clothes and accessories that she wanted to buy. His occupation as an already famous literature author behind the pen name of Alice allowed him to earn more than enough money. Not that he kept all of it on that card; he still kept at least three-fourths of it away for his vanilla milkshakes.

She wasn't dislikable. Of that he was certain. But at the same time, while she was tolerable to a certain extent, he didn't feel anything when he was with her. He never really stopped to think about it because it didn't seem like something he had to do. Yet it was still unsettling. About a month after the confession, he had been on a phone call with Murasakibara Atsushi, who was now a famous food critic after becoming a famous chef himself. The giant drawled in a bored voice between loud sounds of food being devoured that he had seen the girl with a rather influential producer in a small restaurant that wasn't well known. Was he upset? No, but he still waited. He didn't want unnecessary conflict. Momoi Satsuki, who had accepted a job as an exclusive information broker for the Akashi family, did a complete background check on the girl and the producer for him, including every little thing she had done in the past month, as well as before they had met. He barely raised an eye when he saw the piles of information staring back at him; he chose to ignore it and wait for the girl to say something.

Momoi gave him weekly reports. He would always skim over them, noting the frequent appearances of new names and then burn them so as to not leave any evidence behind.

He waited. And waited. Never raising his voice or asking Ritsuke about the matter. Many of his old teammates had come up to him or called him, telling him to just dump the girl and find someone else. Kise had jumped on him, full-on wailing while Midorima Shintaro had tried to subtly hand him Aquarius' lucky item, saying that it was a late birthday gift, never mind that he had already received a gift several months ago from the man. Aomine Daichi knocked him on the head, spitting harshly at him 'what the hell are you doing Tetsu, you idiot' before picking him up and gave him one of those rare hugs reserved just for him and Momoi. Even Haizaki had come, his hair back to its' metal gray and all loose around his face, and grabbed him by the collar to shout at him for a good five minutes about how stupid he was being. He smiled faintly at the memories. As for him, he hadn't said anything; didn't even call. Not that Kuroko expected him to, but he supposed he was slightly disappointed.

He sighed, and slumped on the bed; a small part of him patting himself on the head for turning off the lights earlier. It was almost the weekend and he had a strict policy of not meeting anyone face-to-face in his job as an writer, so he had a rather free schedule. There wasn't much he wanted to do, and basketball was obviously not possible with everyone so busy in their current jobs. He covered his face with his hands, arching his neck back and digging into the soft covers, stretching his back. He relaxed again, rolling around on the bed in a frustrated manner.

The shrill ring of his phone made him stop mid-roll. There was no name displayed on the screen, only the words 'Private Number'. He hesitated as it rang a second time before making up his mind and pressing the green talk button.

"Hello?"