Archive of Our Own ^beta

When I entered college, I thought I would finally be able to step away from the chaos of the Generation of Miracles. I imagined that we would scatter, each going our own way. That was, after all, the natural course of life.

I was wrong.

Instead, we all ended up at the same college. The same campus. The same basketball team. And, somehow, the same apartment.

No one suspected it. That was the surprising part.

At school, we made sure of it. Our teammates and classmates only ever saw us bickering: Kise yelling at Aomine for skipping drills, Aomine groaning about Midorima's obsession with Oha Asa, Midorima called Kise and idiot, Murasakibara grumbling at everyone, Akashi cutting through with calm words that sounded more like commands. And me, usually standing silently at the side, watching.

To anyone else, we were rivals forced to coexist. The kind of relationship that cracked at the seams but held together only for the sake of victory. No one would ever imagine that after practice, after lectures, after the shouts and insults, we walked back to the same apartment together.

And no one would believe that once we crossed the threshold of the door, the supposed 'rivals' threw their bags in a pile and settled into a life of shared meals, shared futons, and shared silence that only family could create.

-

It was difficult finding an appropriate sized apartment for the 6 of us, so we settled on one which was convenient. A living room big enough to hold a worn couch and a low table, a kitchen that could fit three people if we squeezed, and two bedrooms, though we rarely used both. By unspoken agreement, we pushed all the futons into one room, lined up side by side. The other room was to hold all our clutter and cardboard boxes we used to move our stuff in.

At first, when people found out about us living together, they teased us about it. "Eh? You guys all live together? Must be hell," one teammate said.

We shrugged. Aomine snorted and muttered, "Tch, it's just temporary." Mirdorima said it was "a matter of convenience." Kise claimed he only stayed because he "felt bad for Tetsucchi living with these scary guys."

They laughed, bought the story, and never looked deeper. Why would they? To them, we were constantly at each other's throats. The idea of us being anything else was unthinkable.

And so the secret stayed safe, hidden in plain sight.

-

At school, the act never slipped.

"Oi, Kise, stop hogging the ball, we're practicing team plays!"

"Eh? But my scoring's reliable, unlike Aominecchi's attendance!"

"What was that, pretty boy?!"

"Both of you are insufferable," Midorima would snap, pushing up his glasses. "You're lowering the practice efficiency by twenty percent."

Murasakibara would yawn loudly and mutter, "Ne, it doesn't matter. I'll just crush them all anyway."

And then Akashi would appear, his presence enough to freeze the argument. "Focus. We cannot afford distractions."

To anyone watching, it looked like barely contained animosity. To me, it felt like... play-acting. A script we all knew by heart.

-

Home was different.

The moment we closed the door behind us, the sharp edges dulled. Aomine flopped on the couch, Kise threw himself onto the floor with dramatic groans, Murasakibara raided the snack cupboard, Midorima began sorting through his textbooks, and Akashi quietly brewed tea.

Sometimes, it was noisy. Sometimes, it was quiet. Always, it was comfortable.

We shared meals, usually something simple. Midorima insisted on balanced nutrition, though Aomine constantly tried to order fast food. More than once, Akashi confiscated a delivery bag at the door, handing it back to the startled driver with a polite, "There's been a mistake."

Our teammates at school never understood why we left together, why we disappeared into the same direction after practice. They joked that maybe we were going to fight somewhere private. None of them ever guessed that we were walking home, except for the ones who found out after taking the same route as us. They were told to keep their mouths shut, though.

-

Nights in the futon room were the strangest part of our arrangement.

Six futons lined side by side, blankets overlapping, bodies shifting in sleep. At first, we tried to maintain personal space. But space, in a room full of athletes, is fragile.

One night, I woke to find Kise draped across me like a scarf, murmuring in his sleep. Another time, Aomine's arm ended up slung over my waist, his breathing steady against my shoulder. Murasakibara often rolled until his long legs tangled with mine, my head tucked comfortably into his neck. Even Midorima, who swore he never moved in his sleep, sometimes shifted close enough that our shoulders brushed.

And Akashi... he always started at the far end. But I sometimes wake to the faint weight of his hand resting near mine.

None of us mentioned it in the mornings. We simply straightened our futons, stretched, and began another day.

-

I remember one rainy afternoon when classes were canceled. We stayed inside, the sound of rain heavy against the balcony windows.

Aomine sprawled on the couch, flicking through channels. Kise flipped through his own modelling magazines. Midorima read quietly, while Murasakibara balanced pocky sticks into towers. Akashi sat at the table, notebook open, pen moving steadily.

I made tea.

"Ne, Tetsucchi," Kise said suddenly, "Don't you think it's funny how everyone at school thinks we hate each other?"

I set the cups down. "It is convenient. It reduces the amount of attention we attract."

Aomine snorted. "Let them think what they want. It's easier that way."

Midorima adjusted his glasses. "It's better than explaining. They wouldn't understand."

Akashi looked up from his notes, his gaze sweeping over us with quiet amusment. "Perhaps that's what makes this arrangement work. To the world, we are rivals. But here... we are something else."

The rain softened against the glass. No one disagreed.

-

Living together revealed small things.

Like how Aomine left his socks everywhere. Kise hummed while brushing his teeth and sung off-pitch in the shower. Midorima arranged his textbooks by height. Murasakibara never remembered where he put his slippers. Akashi always locked the door twice.

And me, I found myself smiling more than I used to.

There were warm moments, too. Kise dozing against my shoulder during late-night movies, and I laying my head against his in return. Aomine nudging me awake in the library when my head tipped against his arm. Midorima buying me my lucky item on days when zodiac ranked low on the Oha Asa. Murasakibara offering me the last bite of his snacks, even though he never shared with anyone else. Akashi's voice, softer than the others would ever hear, when he told me goodnight. I never pointed it out, but it was enough to notice.

Accidents, maybe. Habits, perhaps. Or it was nostalgia from middle school. Too subtle to be named romance but warmer than friendship.

-

No one knew the truth. At school, on the court, in the gym, we were rivals. Snapping, bickering, glaring, a storm barely contained. That was the story everyone believed.

But behind the apartment door, after the noise of the world fell away, we were something quieter.

We were six futons in a row, blankets tangled, limbs brushing, bodies unconsciously pulling close in sleep. We were late-night laughter, shared dinner, the comfort of knowing someone was always there when you come back to the apartment.

We were not enemies. Not rivals. Not anymore.

We were home.

And though no one outside would ever understand, for me, that was enough.