Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroko no Basket

Kuroko

People see romances in books and movies and wish they were true. It's easy to understand—from secretive smiles and knowing glances to mutual understanding and full acceptance, there is little left to desire.

You did not differ from them. The prospect of such beautiful and satisfying love-story was very tempting, especially when you were so easily forgotten.

It was a fantasy for you; a dream to be fulfilled.

And it was.

Middle school started, perhaps, not as you wanted—your promise to Ogiwara a little too far away—but soon morphed in a fairy-tale (too short-lived like any other).

Aomine came as a surprise, one that helped you hold your goal more tightly. But hopes without proof weren't lasting and despair found its way to your heart, knocking down your self-esteem.

Soon the romance came, as stories tell, to save you. Suddenly and unannounced, in the form of the vice-captain of the basketball club. Red hair and blazing eyes with a great amount of talent and pride.

You didn't know back then, that the change wouldn't be only in the basket; that the helping hand would not only bring you back to your feet but also keep itself intertwined with yours.

Akashi gave you a hint. His eyes held wonder, his smile, expectation and his words, a challenge. Should you complete it, there would be a reward.

You didn't disappoint and, as he watched your elusive form in the court, playing with the player's perception and leading the game, his eyes beamed with pride.

That was the start—you had his interest and he had your respect. After that, things escalated with no one noticing.

Of late practices, shogi boards, and bookshelves, something bloomed. Something, that was left unnamed for years of certainty of mutual awareness.

(Looking back, it wasn't that there was no need to name it, but the fear of the implications and responsibilities that came with it made it impossible to be done.)

Lingering touches away from prying eyes, tender kisses in empty club rooms, stolen glances during training and loving smiles.

It wasn't one that made a move, but both that moved so naturally, so instinctively. Both moved forward and lips met lips, fitting perfectly together like they were meant to.

A dream to come true, you thought back then.

Akashi said nothing, just like you. The unspoken words hung in the air, content with never falling from your mouths—already known by both.

Actions spoke more than words—you believed it at that time.

You believed it as Akashi would whisper your name with a sweetness that not even your vanilla milkshakes could ever accomplish. As you held hands and stood a little too close for friendship standards. As there was no doubt, only an agreement of when and where to meet. As no one questioned nor wondered why, when Akashi wasn't with Midorima, he was with you and when Aomine wasn't by your side; it was Akashi who stood there.

It was perfect.

But perfection doesn't exist.

So what wasn't said because you understood, soon turned in words you were afraid to say. What seemed silent conversations turned in hiding secrets. The happiness you never told morphed in unsaid fears and insecurities.

What you yearned for, now scared your innocent heart.

And, in the mocking silence, doubt crept and stayed. You could not tell him your worries and Akashi would never share his burden.

Like how you gravitated towards each other, without words, you drifted apart.

Now, as the cheers echoed in the stadium and the rest of Seirin celebrated their win, you make your way to him.

"Let's play again and again and again... As many times as you want."

(The road is long, but you took the first step and you hope Akashi does too.)