A/N: Hello! This one will be Aokise with side pairings! ;) Expect fluff and some smut later. No beta right now.
Rating: M
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(Lights, Camera…)
The camera loved Kise from the moment he was born. Sometimes when they had guests over, his mother would drag out the old family albums and proudly flip through the thick binders chronicling his photogenic growth from an angel in the cradle to a prince in blossoming puberty. The intensity of expression in his two lovely, almond shaped eyes gave his photos a strong, tranfixing sense of verisimilitude. Naturally, he was scouted and working long before other kids his age started part-timing.
Posing for photos felt as natural to him as breathing. He knew how to elongate his form to look more limber and graceful, how to twist his torso and hold his shoulders on an angle with just enough tension. He had a signature look of boyish insouciance that drew attention. Kise was well used to people looking at him, praising him for his handsomeness. Actually, he was rather resigned in his role to be admired (sometimes begrudgingly) by everyone he met, male or female.
But Aomine was clearly an exception. And it agitated him. Because he really liked him and he wanted that appreciation returned.
Just today, Kise had pointed out one of his jobs in the window of a menswear store while out buying runners with his blue-haired friend. Aomine barely glanced at it and proceeded to tease him mercilessly for the remainder of their time together while he sulked wordlessly.
His blatant lack of admiration was a bit too much. Kise wanted to cry just thinking about it. But he held it in and said nothing. After all, he will cover Japan's best-seliing sports magazine next month. Surely Aominecchi would have something good to say then? Surely? Of course he will, it's his favourite C! Magazine, no less. Kise schooled his expression. Just carry on for now, Ryouta.
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(Action.)
Aomine wished he could figure it out. What that silence meant. He laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, which lit up for a moment as a car drove past in street before it went all dark again. He closed his eyes but the image flashed behind his eyelids - Kise's strange expression at the shops - hurt bleeding into dejection, then morphing into a stoical countenance he associated with Kuroko. He much less talkative after too. Did I offend him?
He sat up abruptly at a startling thought. Kise, can he be…? The bed suddenly grew all too warm. He pulled his pillow over his head. No it can't be.
Don't encourage yourself, Aomine.