A/N: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke.

A/N: Engish is not my first language.

"You look horrible"

There was an edge of absolute boredom to his voice when he opened the door that afternoon with almost lazy movements, his face absolutely blank as he yawned, stepping inside and loudly dropping his bag onto the floor without a single care in the world. Curled into a ball, laying on her side, the girl looked up at him with dark circles under her eyes, a tired expression on her face even when she smiled. To Makoto the beeping sound of the machine as background noise was a sickening thing itself, and everything about it annoyed him to no end, even though he couldn't say when he had started to hate it so much. Maybe it was when he realized it interrupted the necessary silence that even he needed when he tried to read or eat, but surely it was not when the monitor first appeared in the room. No, because that was stupid.

"I'm happy to see you too"

"I just came because the pudding is surprisingly good, who said anything about coming to see you?" It was not a long way from the door to the chair, and it was not a lot of work to literally steal the chocolate treat from the food tray on top of the small table pushed over her body, dragging his eyes away from the almost untouched food as he sat down; thing was, it only took that to notice the thing that wasn't there the day before, or the day before that, a small plastic like object connected to a machine that most certainly wasn't there before. He frowned at the new addition, feeling as if the green button which her finger was hovering over was mocking him, somehow feeling unable to ignore the way she was holding the thing with somehow a firm grasp even when the rest of her body seemed to lack strength "What's that?"

She shifted, eyes slowly and tiredly focusing on whatever he was looking at, the corner of her lips curling in an awkward angle. It was what he had come to identify as an attempt of what once used to be a grimace, maybe as big as his smirk could be when he wanted, but lacking everything he felt and showed when he made that particular facial expression- He had heard about it before, 'It's like watching a mirror, two sides of the same thing'. She was the reflection of what he didn't mind not being. The other half, the better half, and because she was actually good at it, naturally good, just like he was naturally good at breaking people into pieces, he didn't need to worry about something as trivial as good traits or good actions, charity or sympathy; as the better half, she made up for him as well.

"Painkillers"

He hummed rather distractedly, raising an eyebrow at the numbers on the small screen, taking hold of the small spoon as he started to eat. At the last moment, Makoto snorted, smirking down at her while leaning his arms on top of the side railing of the bed.

"Looks like a toy, does it even work?"

The annoying, sickening and totally useless beeping of the machine almost drowned the sound of breathless laugher, and the pudding was distraction enough to not directly see eyes closing rather slowly. It was not enough, though, to not see the small yet tired smile on a pale face.

"Not really"

He pretended he didn't hear those murmured words.

"You have a match"

It was not a question, it was a statement meant by someone who had seen how he was dressed, but even then he found himself looking down at the uniform he was wearing and conscious of the bag besides the door, the phone that probably was vibrating with texts inside it, teammates probably wondering where the hell he was. The basketball player almost scratched clean the inside of the pudding cup, frowning when there was nothing else to eat, wordlessly throwing the thing inside the trash bin.

"It's of practice"

"I want to see you play" She looked up at him with glassy eyes, body turning over itself until she was able to lay completely face up. Lips were pressed into a thin line when that happened, small finger pressing the annoying green button, numbers on the new screen changing ever so slightly, sickening beeping sound slowing down it's rhythm by a quarter, maybe even less. She didn't pay attention to it, so neither did Makoto; She didn't comment on it, so neither did him. Instead, the teenager raised an eyebrow at her words "On a court, hundreds of people watching. Flashes and cheering and scoring. I want to see that. I never did get the chance before, did I? Even when you got so far last year…"

Makoto snickered at that, because of course she would say something along those lines. Because of course she would think she would get to see a match with smiles and at least handshakes- There would plenty of smiling and laughing from his side, that much he had to admit with a crocked smirk and almost glowing eyes. But at the end of it, there would be none of that from her, because if he pushed aside the oblivious state she was left in while inside that room, she was not stupid and she would see what the idiot of the referee wouldn't even suspect. His eyes traveled through the untouched book on the side table, not the same title as the week before, nor the week before that, and surely there would be different one a week from now, but all in all the same title he himself had inside his own bag; timeless, really. Absolutely no awareness of what happened outside of that room.

Then, it was okay if she was left oblivious.

There was a reason, after all, why that was maybe the only thing he didn't let her see, the only idea he wouldn't let her confirm.

"If you think you won't get too jealous of fans screaming my name, maybe I'll tell you next time I have a big match"

Even if the beeping and it's slow rhythm made him grit his teeth, just like the green button or the numbers on that stupid, useless screen.

"It's a promise then"

"Are you stupid? Of course it's not"

It wouldn't be.