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28 : in more ways than one
He's pretty good, I'll give you that. Even if he's not very bright.
Kuroko is surprised when his cellphone vibrates at the sound of a text. The number is one that he knows all-too-well, but it is not Kise (with his usual encouragements and begging to go on some bonding excursion or another) nor is it Midorima (with his backhanded compliments and snarking bits of help). No, this time - for the first time in he-can't-remember-how-many-months, it is Aomine of all people who is sending him a text.
The Winter Cup has come and gone and with it, the links that he had severed with his old teammates were slowly but surely in the process of repairing themselves. He wishes he could say that it was a truthful surprise, but it is, all in all, a piece in a well-plotted idea.
Nonetheless, Aomine's text comes as a pleasant deviation from 'normal'; Kuroko hides a smile behind his textbook before quickly typing back -
Says Aomine-kun.
The teacher of the hour prods a snoring Kagami; Kuroko is thankful, once again, for his diminutive nature. But before the completion of the current lecture on the various weapons of Feudal Japan, Kuroko receives the other's response - this sort of speed, Kuroko thinks, is probably because Aomine is ditching class once more.
Whaaa? Are you saying that I'm stupider than him?
If you continue ditching class, I am certain that even Kagami-kun will have better scores. It's a low blow, he knows, but it's all for the better in the end. Aomine doesn't respond for a while after that, Kuroko slips his cellphone into his pocket and remembers to poke Kagami into consciousness before the teacher slaps him with yet another afterschool detention. Vaguely, he wonders if he overstepped his boundaries - Aomine, after all, values his own capabilities more than anyone else - but he shoves it out of his mind because a week flies by and so does another, and when he receives another text, this time in the middle of basketball practice, this one reads:
Tetsu-kun, I saw your text on Dai-kun's phone. Thank you so much for getting him to go to class more often! Even though he falls asleep so often at least his grades are better now! xoxo
His eyebrows rise in surprise before a slow smile makes its way across his face. Momoi, of course, is still as concerned with Aomine's terrible study habits as she was in elementary school. He sends a pleased reply in-response to Momoi's text while musing how long this sudden streak of actually-going-to-class will last, before putting his cellphone away to concentrate on actually making an unguarded basket.
Later, when he's in the comfort of his apartment, he pulls out his cellphone and finds himself typing out a message to Aomine without even thinking. It reads 'It's nice to see Aomine-kun going to class more often.' It's so terribly out-of-the-blue that he feels the need to tack on 'I would not mind helping if Aomine-kun finds history or geography or Japanese to be difficult'. Before the weight of his offer sinks in, he finds that his thumb has already pressed the 'sent' button and he's staring at the 'Message Successfully Sent' screen.
Kuroko stares dumbly at the cellphone screen for an extended period of time before snapping it shut, a flush rising quickly to his cheeks.
He cannot - will not - believe himself capable of such a disgustingly pretentious offer. It's the equivalent of - and then his cellphone vibrates and his fingers hurry to flip it open on instinct - and the other's reply flashes on the screen and Kuroko will not believe his eyes even after scanning the contents of the short text three times over.
Sure.
All the same, his fingers quickly type out a reply of 'When will Aomine-kun be free?' and a hastily-added, 'What topics are being covered?' before sitting stiffly on the edge of his bed, staring intently at the 'Message Successfully Sent' screen. The minutes tick by and right when something like three hours have passed by and he's prepared to toss his cellphone aside in not-at-all-frustration, the reply comes: a time and date and a side-note of 'wear shorts'. Kuroko rolls his eyes; some things, apparently, are incapable of change.
The time and date roll by soon enough and he meets Aomine on the leftmost lot of the public basketball courts in the Metro district of the city. They're both wearing t-shirts and shorts though Aomine has a basketball under his arm and Kuroko clutches three textbooks. Momoi has sent an utterly giddy text message of 'Have fun~~~ 3' and Aomine rolls his eyes before smiling fondly. They play rock-paper scissors to determine what to do first: Kuroko wins and he flips open the Japanese history textbook with a triumphant sort of grace.
Painful as it is to admit, Aomine is just as bad as Kagami when it comes to books and studying; the other seems incapable of understanding that certain types of punctuation are better for certain situations and while cause and effect are easy to explain, Aomine cannot explain two historical events in writing. Progress is slow, impeded by Aomine dropping everything to dropkick a random highschooler who made the mistake of thinking the two of them to be nerds, but it is there.
The tables are turned some ninety-odd pages later (on subjects ranging from European history, different styles of Yojijukugo, lines of latitude and longitude, and the shape of the larger Middle Eastern countries) when Aomine breaths a sigh of relief and closes the final textbook, snatching up the basketball and giving it a confident twirl. And then it's Kuroko's turn to struggle and sweat - in a more literal sense, of course - as Aomine forces him to defend and attack, punctuating every easy victory with: 'this way I'm teaching you something.'
He gets back home covered in sweat and his textbooks are noticeably worse for the wear and - worst of all - there is a small smile that will not come off his face. Especially not when - after having showered - his cellphone vibrates yet again and the new message reads:
Are you free next weekend?
Kuroko is aching all over and even his brain hurts (in his valiant attempt to get Aomine to grasp the concept of prepositional phrases in-relation to past participles) and still, his fingers move on their own - Yes. - and his cheeks stretch all the wider when Aomine replies with -
See you then.