Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basuke/"The Basketball Which Kuroko Plays"and all its characters and their likenesses are property of Tadatoshi Fujimaki and other talented, smart, and now likely very wealthy folks. I gain nothing from this, (except for shutting my Midorima muse up for a while DX).

Timeline: Set years after the current events of the anime/manga, post-high school graduation.

Pairings: Midorima x Takao, (AKA MidoTaka or TakaMido)

Warnings: Sap, shippiness, and general "guy love" themes throughout – don't like it? Don't read.

Teams don't last forever. Not outside of memory, at least. Based on that fact alone, Takao had known this day would come from the very moment they met.

But he didn't think it'd be anything like this.

When he'd first met Midorima, he'd found him peculiar and off-putting; frustrating, and yet strangely endearing at the same time. They would never get along, he said to himself – they could never possibly see eye-to-eye. Midorima was too uptight, too reserved, and too set in his ways. Ways that Takao never quite understood. Still, he tolerated them well – better than most of his teammates at Shuutoku – even if he found them outlandish and pointless.

But all that changed over the course of their friendship. Together, they saw seasons come and go, and learned to work together with their team as a pair. No, not as a pair – as partners. Takao felt he'd earned the right to say that, and some part of him wore the title proudly. It only took until the end of their first year together for them to become inseparable.

Trouble was, by the end of their second year, Takao knew beyond the shadow of a doubt – he was in love.

Midorima was oblivious, of course. Even if Takao had been called out on it, he would have vehemently denied everything. He was content with the closeness they shared as it was; he could see nothing worth risking their friendship and that closeness for.

Granted, he knew it couldn't last forever. High School had to end sometime, after all. From the moment scouts had started attending their games, he'd seen the next step coming a mile away: Midorima got noticed for his incredible shooting range and accuracy, and got picked up by a top-notch college with a reputable basketball team.

Takao didn't.

Jealousy wasn't an issue, though the shooting guard wouldn't deny feeling just a pinch of that, even though the vastly larger part of him was happy for his teammate. The problem was that the schools they were headed for were on opposite ends of the country. The two of them had never said a goodbye for more than the duration of a school break. This one, however, they knew would likely be for good.

As Takao indulged his partner for the last time, even the final rickshaw ride was bittersweet, (though admittedly, that had a much higher concentration of 'bitter'). He parked as close as he could to the train station, and they walked the rest of the way. For once, Takao was uncharacteristically tight-lipped, their conversation lacking his normal wit and humor. Midorima didn't press for conversation, even if their shared silence felt empty and awkward while they waited side-by-side on the platform.

As the train approached, Takao felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach, thick and heavy like wet cement. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. This wasn't supposed to be so… sad. Didn't he once say he was going to exact his revenge on this guy? Now, his heart ached watching him go. Who could have guessed his feelings would change so greatly in such a short amount of time? With a small chuckle at the thought, he brushed everything off as best he could and forced a wan smile for his teammate.

"Looks like this's your ride," he remarked weakly. It was just about the only complete sentence he'd spoken all day.

"I know," the shooting guard answered, and picked up his bag. Everything he needed was on his back, neatly packed with meticulous organization into a modest backpack that was slung over his right shoulder.

With a hiss, the passenger cab came to a stop and its doors opened. This was it: The last time they'd see each other; their final farewell. Midorima stepped over the threshold, gripping a handrail with taped fingers before turning back to face his companion one last time.

But Takao's silvery eyes weren't there to meet his. Instead, they were on the ground at his feet. His shoulders jerked once, then twice. Then he gave a breathy, forced-sounding laugh.

From behind thick-rimmed glasses, Midorima squinted slightly, perking a brow. "Takao?"

The shorter man shook his head, still staring at the ground. "You know, after all this time, you were right all along," he murmured, still half-heartedly chuckling in spite of himself, "I am a fool."

"What?" The question was nearly drowned out entirely by the sound of an automated voice over the train's loudspeaker informing passengers of impending departure. The doors began to close.

"Don't you get it?" That was when he finally looked up, revealing tear-stained eyes and damp cheeks. With a bittersweet smile that fell short of everything he'd wanted it to be, Takao met gazes with Midorima for what would be the last time. Tears cascaded over his cheeks unimpeded in a flood, his voice breathy, broken, hitching as he spoke.

"I love you, Shin-chan."

Midorima's heart dropped to his stomach; his bag, to the floor. Without a moment of forethought he surged forward, crossing the threshold to the platform and yanking his companion on board by a wrist, narrowly avoiding the closing doors. As they nearly toppled inside, he caught Takao against his chest, crashing back against a partition that kept them upright. Midorima drew a breath to speak, but was silenced by the shaking of the smaller frame in his grasp.

It shuddered and trembled as Takao's self-control vanished, and the dam finally broke. Despite how he struggled to control the sobs that built and caught in his throat, they escaped in choked sounds of grief his teammate had never heard before. It was almost painful for Midorima just to listen to, nonetheless feel as those tremors of sorrow rolled through his body in waves strong enough to make him doubt the stability of his knees. Even as they wavered, those long arms around him were there to support him, just the same as he'd come to know his partner always would, no matter the distance between them.

"I-I'm… s-sorry," Takao sputtered finally. Clutching at Midorima's shirt desperately, he buried his head as best he could, trying to muffle the sounds he couldn't seem to control. He dared not look up, of course. Not only had he spilled his guts to the person closest to him, but he'd failed to contain the outburst he told himself he'd never let himself have. He was never going to live this one down. How Midorima hadn't shoved him away by now, he'd never know. But instead, the arms around him only seemed to get tighter, tugging their bodies flush together.

Takao could feel the scratch of tape against his clothing as a hand stroked up and down his back soothingly. It did well to stem the tide of grief crashing over him, quieting him some. As he did, he could hear his taller teammate scoff lightly; could feel a warm breath on the top of his head.

"You idiot," Midorima murmured softly into dark hair. "I love you, too."