Bands of Black and Blue

by Classically Cliche

There is something about you that makes me willing to withstand the pain of both distance and time. But when all else falls away, you can remember that you once had me. 30themes with Aomine/Kuroko - varying between close friendship and strong romance.

21. one chance in a lifetime

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BANDS OF black AND blue

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21 : one chance in a lifetime

It is absolutely ridiculous that - somehow - after seven years without seeing him, the two of you would somehow end up in the same profession. You don't speak of him - ever - so when your superior hands you his calling card, asking for the two of you to come together for a professional meeting of some sort or another, you do not bring up the fact that this is your childhood friend; your best friend, really, from your middle school years.

When you call his cellphone, he is absolutely surprised to hear your voice - you've lost contact, no doubt, through these years and the pleasant shock in his voice at having rediscovered you weighs heavy on your heart.

All the same, you ask him if he'd like to meet, anytime in the evening of this week would be fine, for coffee or dinner or something of the sort. You can practically hear his smile on the other end of the line and when you close your eyes, you imagine his unnaturally tan fingers closing their grip on the phone, tightening with delight. He tells you that he would be delighted, that he knows of a quaint little bistro in the middle of the bustling city and that he'll call for reservations as it has a tendency to crowd up come evening.

You smile, telling him that that would be perfect, and you make plans for a time and date. Wednesday at 7:30PM, the two of you decide; you slide your phone into your pocket, typing out his positive response to your superior. He'll be ecstatic you know, and you wonder if you should've mentioned that the two of your were friends, once upon a time.

It's ridiculous, but you find yourself fretting - of all things to be doing an hour before the arranged meeting - because this is important, in more ways than one, to the success of your future and he is an old friend; a dear old friend who happened to drift away after having gone to a high school that was a good two hours worth of driving away. Since it's a bistro, you end up choosing a polo and slacks, leaving off your everyday sunglasses.

Before you exit your one-bedroom flat, you catch a glimpse of your own wanely-smiling reflection in the mirror behind the door. You look like nothing but a dirty liar, and you bite down a laugh during the commute to the bistro. Aomine - and you are counting on this - is more than likely to let affection and nostalgia cloud his judgment.

He positively beams from the reserved two-person table that he's sitting at. You smile back, hoping that your cheek muscles aren't too out of practice. Whatever ends up happening, Aomine laughs, giving you a high-five before passing you a menu. The conversation is easy, effortless; you smile at the brilliant navy blue color that manages to define his hair and eyes and he smiles cheekily when he catches you staring. The two of you pass through dozens of topics: good television shows, day-to-day comics, the weather, how the chef of this particular bistro really knows how to make a good soufflé, how many years it has been since middle school graduation and how life has - in general - been going.

The funny thing is, after the list of possible topics between two old friends has been exhausted twice, neither of you ever stray anywhere near the conversation of work.

When the chocolate fondue comes - a specialty of this bistro, you learn from a snickering Aomine (who has stolen a chocolate cracker off your plate, smiling while holding it between his white teeth) - Aomine also orders two glasses of Port; it's a sweet wine, but when it slides down your throat, the only thing you can taste are tears.

After he's finished the wine and looking curiously at you - though not questioning your moist eyes - his gaze chances to the window and you see your superior outside. Your eyes widen, and he takes notice of this. A bitter laugh does not suit him at all, you think, but it's the universe who will end up - ultimately - with the last laugh. He tells you that he came here for the same reason as you, that he was happy to see you and that, in the end, he couldn't find it in himself to kill his best friend from middle school.

This is tragedy: when you smile sadly and the tears are falling unfettered from your eyes because you're showing him the now-empty container of poison and he doesn't even have the expectations of you to look disappointed, much less betrayed.

You take no comfort in the fact that he dies smiling - you have never thought yourself to be a good friend, after all.