A/N: un-beta'd. I don't know if this is good or terrible or what but my feels are satisfied so. /throws this.
A touch of blush, a splash of color, a little red dress that was just a little too tight across the chest — it wasn't her fault, having a physique of a teenager and the boobs of a woman — and a pair of too-high heels that took a while to figure out because they were just straps that crisscrossed and crosscrissed every which way, this was her battle-ready uniform for the dance the high school was hosting.
Satsuki was going, date or no date.
Luckily for her, when she opened her front door and stepped out into the cold air, a familiar shape tucked into a tuxedo with his dark hair slicked back waited, his foot tapping impatiently as he chewed on a stick of gum. "Took you damn long enough," he said when she was about to ask him why he was here, but she just smiled and adjusted his tie because Dai-chan never could tie it right.
Tears burned in her vision as she stared down at her untouched plate of food. The seat across from her was empty, the candles on the table long since blown out. The waitress lingered nearby nervously, opting to pat Satsuki on the shoulder once or twice and offer her a drink on the house, but the young lawyer would not accept it.
"Yo." Satsuki looked up, rapidly wiping her smudged mascara off her cheeks when she was met with familiar blue eyes and dusky skin.
"You want me to kick his ass?" Daiki took the seat across from her and her plate, too. He harpooned a ravioli and tossed it into his mouth. "Gross, it's cold." But he continued to eat it anyways.
"No thank you, Dai-chan," the pinkette hiccuped, "I'll kick it myself."
If it wasn't for Daiki she'd be spilling her sorrows to her best friends Ben & Jerry, but instead she was smothering her tears against a strong shoulder and clawing blindly for the pint of Chunky Monkey icecream that Daiki was holding out of reach while he shoveled spoonfuls of the stuff in his mouth at a time. If Daiki wasn't there she'd be wallowing in self-pity, asking herself what made her undesirable — there must have been something wrong with her, too many men had left her, went behind her back with other women — and eating her weight in junk food, but her childhood friend was making impossible to do so.
When the carton was empty and discarded on the table, Aomine cleared his throat pointedly and Momoi turned her attention to him.
"Satsuki, uh…" He trailed off, scratching his cheek while his brows furrowed in thought. He wasn't looking at her. "You were too good for him anyway, you know? Too good for a lot of the people you've seen, especially those who were too stupid to realize it and let you go." Again he cleared his throat, and Satsuki swore she saw a bit of pink across his cheeks, but maybe it was just a trick of the light.
"I thought this one was the one, Dai-chan. I really did." Her voice grew soft, contemplative.
"Guess not," he offered, shrugging his shoulders. "But, uh. I have something for you."
He thrust a velvet box into her hands.
She blinked again.
"Are you just going to stare at it? Take a fucking picture, it'll last longer."
"Dai-chan, don't be mean!" Her fingers shook as she popped open the lid and stared into the contents of the box. White gold, four pink diamonds among the white, one large but not gaudy center stone. She slid it onto her finger. Size six, perfect fit.
Her eyes grew watery again. "D-Dai-chan—!"
"F-Fuck, don't cry!" He found himself holding a bundle of woman who decided once again to cry against him for the second time that evening.
"Do you, Aomine Daiki, take Momoi Satsuki to be your lofty wedded wife?"
"I guess so."
"Dammit it, woman, don't hit me! …Yeah, I do."
"Do you, Momoi Satuski, take Aomine Daiki to be your lofty wedded husband?"
"Then by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife; you may kiss the bride."
So he did.