AN: this fic is for chii / akashikuroko's birthday a few months ago; it's just that i was too busy to publish it during that time. :) regardless, i hope you enjoy reading this!
theoretical framework of riding a bicycle
In theory, riding a bicycle is almost the same as riding a horse—except, well, he'd have to work his legs for the bicycle to move. Sitting with his back straight, none of that slouching nonsense whatsoever. Right foot on the pedal, ready to kick off. Hands gripping the reins—or in this case, handlebars, tightly so as to avoid losing control. Safety helmet, knee guards, elbow guards, the ensemble of equipment Tetsuya's made him wear. He even learnt the anatomy of a bicycle a few hours prior to their excursion.
"You're going to fall off like that, Akashi-kun," Tetsuya murmurs with a note of caution, hands automatically reaching out to steady the redhead mounted on his bicycle. "Please be careful, I'm not sure if your insurance will cover this."
Seijuurou was not, by any means, at any risk of falling off. But sometimes Tetsuya's worrywart nature puts him at the same level of safeguarding a kindergartener. A child. He's certain he's better than that, even if he's just learning to ride a bicycle at the age of 16. In the middle of winter. Right outside Tetsuya's doorstep, on his frost-covered lawn.
"You worry too much, Kuroko," he says, putting out a foot on the ground just so that Tetsuya would feel the slightest bit of relief at seeing him able enough to steady himself. "If it's about balance, then you don't have to worry. I can balance myself well enough when I ride on Yukimaru."
"Even if that's the case, I'd rather not have any chances of Akashi-kun rushed to the ER after bleeding on my mother's carpet grass," he petulantly retaliates with a quiet gesture to his mother's hand-planted treasure just right underneath them. "And I'm sure you wouldn't want to spend your New Year's Day sitting in the hospital when you could be at home to enjoy the day."
"Spending time in the hospital during New Year's Day is just the same as spending time at home," Seijuurou points out. "At least it would give me a brand new experience than having to go through the same routine."
Tetsuya's tranquil expression cleverly masks the fact that he wanted to put his head in his hands to lament his odd streak of luck, looking skywards as though asking God why, since this is far-off from a belated Christmas miracle. "Akashi-kun, I'm actually surprised that you don't know how to ride a bicycle." For good measure, he left out the bit he almost tacked onto the end of the sentence: At your age. "This could've been done at your home."
Yes, there is no fault in what Tetsuya said, but he's missing the point. Seijuurou unfastens his plastic helmet—blue, because he borrowed it from Tetsuya—and sets it down firmly in the cute wicker basket mounted on Tetsuya's bicycle. "I wanted to do it with you, that's why."
It's awfully straightforward of him to say so, and maybe a tad bit too bold too because the flush consuming Tetsuya's cheek couldn't possibly be attributed to his sudden realisation that they're standing in the middle of a wintery garden, trying to catch up on Seijuurou's stunted childhood development. Tetsuya expressions are purely textbook material.
After what seems to be an awkward pause in their conversation, Tetsuya manages to string together an appropriate reply. "If Akashi-kun is serious about this, then I'll be a strict teacher. Please prepare yourself."
Seijuurou's hands grasp the rubbery handles, flexing his fingers experimentally. "Of course, Kuroko-sensei."
He doesn't need to look up to know the fevered flush has taken temporary refuge all over Tetsuya's cheeks right down to his neck, and that itself is a rather novel sight in the winter blues.