Happy birthday to my dearest, most wonderful cimberelly ; you have made the last six months (can you believe it's been that long already?) absolutely wonderful and incredible, and you continue to inspire me. I look forward to our conversations, whether we're crying about these dumb babies, plotting, or doing other things, and you are absolutely so precious. I am thankful every day for the fact that you reached out to comment on Heartstone, and set the ball rolling on our friendship and partnership. So thank you so so much for coming into my life; and I really hope that you enjoy this, even though we totally plotted it out together and you know what's going to happen.

This is the last time.

Daiki knows it is; Kise hasn't been shy about sharing his post school plans.

The way he'd looked at Daiki as he'd told him was branded into his mind.

It made him angry, made him burn. Kise could do anything, he'd proven it time and time again, fucking mimic, copycat; Kise could do anything.

Daiki couldn't afford to have his mind on anything but this game, this moment, this last forty minutes in which everything Kise was, was a product of him, for better or for worse. He wanted to sear it into his bones, how it felt to play with everything against Kise, how it felt to have Kise play with everything he had against him.

"I'm going international," he'd said, and his smile had been soft and gentle like Daiki was a scared animal, so he'd thrown his basketball at Kise and he'd finally, finally caught it.

"What's your point?" Daiki had asked, as if he didn't know exactly what it meant. Kise had followed in his wake for years. It was impossible not to know that this was Kise's final departure, the last piece to fall since the moment he'd stood on the court in their first year of high school and found the resolve to bring Daiki down from where he admired him and back to someplace human.

If Kise had understood that Daiki knew, he hadn't let on. It was hard to tell sometimes with Kise, who could read people so effortlessly. "This winter," he'd said. "It'll be the last time we play against each other like this."

Kise could do anything. Daiki knew and believed it in someplace sacred and special that no one and nothing could touch, and that's why it burned so bitterly that Kise had chosen to try and become a celebrity, a supermodel, rather than finish the chase down the court. Kise could go pro; they all knew it was easily within his reach and talent, and Daiki would have been right there next to him—

These are tomorrow's thoughts, tomorrow's melancholy. Tonight, he and Kise are going to burn brighter than they ever have before, together, one last time.

Daiki steps out onto the court, and the only things he lets himself feel are the ball and the way it feels to have Kise chase after him one last time; he lets himself play with all the love he has in his heart for this game and Kise Ryouta.

The plain and honest truth of it all was that at between the ages of sixteen and nineteen, Aomine Daiki was head over heels in love with stupid fucking new-girlfriend-every-fucking-week Kise Ryouta.

Daiki was never an overly thoughtful person; it was too much wasted time and effort for the most part, to think about unnecessary and/or troubling things. The revelation that he was kind of hot for Kise and probably wouldn't mind making out with him and doing other significantly less G-rated things with him wasn't one that he dwelled on for too long.

After all, at least he had taste; it was pretty much universally recognised that Kise was hot. Well, some people liked to use words like beautiful and handsome and gorgeous and pretty and shit like that. It all really boiled down to the fact that Kise had a nice face and body to look at.

So being attracted to Kise wasn't special. Sometimes, it seemed as if half of Japan was attracted to Kise.

The troublesome thing was that Daiki actually had feelings for Kise. It wasn't so much about the fact that Daiki wouldn't mind fucking him (and he wouldn't. He very much wouldn't. In one of his more curious moments, he'd looked up how it was done, and well... even though it sounded like a lot of work, he'd totally be up for it if Kise was). The problem, for Daiki, was that he knew Kise was whiny and annoying and never shut up and had an enormous ego and was a little shit, and he liked him anyway.

That was the bit he didn't really like to think about.

So he didn't really. He ignored it, and he ignored Satsuki's veiled and not-so-veiled comments about it – and how the fuck did she know anyway, when he'd never breathed a word about it? – and he pretended that it didn't matter, because it didn't.

Lying to yourself is a bad habit for a number of reasons, but the biggest one is probably because of the moment you catch yourself out in your own lie; because after their last game is over there's nothing for Daiki to focus on but the thought Kise is leaving.

And he can't pretend that he doesn't care and that it doesn't matter because it does, and there's a feeling like maybe he was going to regret never having confessed to Kise, even though he still can't imagine ever telling him.

Knowing Kise, he'd probably be in contact. But there was definitely the sense that there would never be another time like this in their lives where they were so close.

He dealt with it pretty much the way he dealt with everything;

Daiki ignored it, and kind of hoped it would sort itself out in the end.