Title: Penny for Your Thoughts

Summary: "Shin-chan," Takao laughs — so carefree, so happy, and so alive. "You're thinking too much again."

Midorima secretly likes it when Takao imitates his slightly pouted lips and furrowed eyebrows. At least, the expression looks adorable on the shorter male, and Midorima finds Takao's attention to details quite admirable.

However, he doesn't, in the least bit, enjoy Takao teasing him about being preoccupied all the time.

"Penny for your thoughts, Shin-chan?" Takao animatedly flops on the desk and scrunches his face up as if he's the Grinch. Today is not the day that Midorima has the patience for all of Takao's jesting. There's been something plastered on his mind, hanging like an unneeded nail in the hinge of the door. He's been musing about what seems wrong about him and his surroundings, but up until now, he hasn't formulated an answer.

With an irked huff, Midorima says, "It's nothing."

"Aw, come on," Takao elbows him and receives a grunt in return. He's too used to Midorima's disposition that he knows that Midorima can tolerate him between that annoyed facade. "You know you're overthinking about something again. Was it a test? Did you forget to check Oha-asa today?"

"Takao, shut up," Midorima mutters, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His mood is definitely not correspondent to Takao's games.

"Or maybe, you're still bothered by last week's loss?"

"Takao."

"Or maybe you —"

"Takao," Midorima's pitch rises, blood boiling from Takao's incessant babbling. How can Takao never understand that he needs silence and isolation when he's too high up in the clouds to care about other people? Finally, Takao takes Midorima's change of tone as a warning and zips his mouth. "Just...Just go away. I don't need you around if you'll just keep talking like that."

For a myriad of moments, all Midorima can listen to is the ferocious beating of his heart.

There is something so odd but he can't exactly point it out.

Takao speaks up, concern painting his features. "Are you alright, Shin-chan? You seem out of it today."

"I just want silence," Midorima replies quietly. "Just give me that, and I'll be okay."

After a pregnant pause, Takao says, "Okay." He leaps from the desk and exits the classroom without another word, not even minding to throw another glance off of his shoulder. Midorima, in defeat, slams his head against the wall and rubs his temples vigorously, acknowledging the throbbing pain as a punishment for his recent rudeness.

The absence of Takao's ramblings doesn't help; his head hurts even more.

Midorima still hasn't been able to decipher the difference that makes him squirm in random moments. Those random moments, he recollects, are always the ones with Takao, either with him in the frontlines or blending in the background. Takao is talking too much, even more than his usual fifty sentences of daily gibberish or provocation.

"Shin-chaaaaaan," Takao pierces the recurring sounds of basketballs colliding with the floor with his own one-man commotion. "Getting worked up already?"

Midorima shrugs and aims for the basket, not surprised by another seamless shot. His flawlessness in making three-pointers is never enough. "There's not much time to waste when it comes to practice. You should have the same mindset, or else your talent will go drown the drain if uncoupled with effort."

Takao snickers at himself, jumps with a ball in hand, and shoots with no hesitation. Midorima looks to him, and his mouth opens when he can't see him anywhere — not midair, not sprawled on the floor, not hiding in a nook that's probably too far away. He suddenly becomes frantic, eyes darting in various directions to find Takao.

Midorima can't breathe. Something is terribly, terribly wrong.

The ball gets in just as Takao lands. His voice disrupts Midorima from his state of confusion. "Sometimes, I wonder why you're too serious."

Where the hell did Takao go in those few seconds?

Takao smiles down at him, and only then does Midorima realize that his knees have given up on him.

"You look pale, Shintarou."

Akashi happens to pass by Shuutoku on the way home and corners Midorima for a friendly conversation. Eventually, they decide on the Teikou gym as an appropriate location. Perhaps it would be conducive for some clarifications. Normally, Midorima doesn't talk about these things to other people, but he's too scared out of his wits. Another thing that he has never been before.

Akashi waits patiently until Midorima has made up his mind to explain. "There's...there's a lot of things bothering me lately."

"Precisely what?" Akashi demands a better answer. He crosses his arms over his chest, seeming to understand what is going on but refusing to give another word.

"I think my vision is going awry," Midorima starts. "I keep seeing things I'm not supposed to."

"Go to an ophthalmologist," Akashi cocks an eyebrow. Midorima should be aware of the most reasonable actions to certain plights.

"That's not what I meant. Whenever I look at Takao," Akashi clenches his hand when Midorima mentions his teammate's name, "he just...he disappears. I'm left with a fleeting feeling in my chest, as if I'm missing a puzzle piece."

Akashi is silent for a few minutes. "Shintarou. Have you gone to your scheduled therapy sessions?"

"What?" Midorima hears the word 'therapy' but is not so sure.

"Have you gone to see your psychologist lately?"

"Why are you still here, Takao?" Midorima blurts one day, keeping his voice in check as he kneels on grass. Takao is wearing a silly flower crown on his jet-black head, and in tune to the halcyon surroundings, he closes his eyes.

"Takao," Midorima helplessly says. He reaches for his hand but Takao scoots away, still laying peacefully on the ground. The quiet male slowly hums to the chirps of the birds. "Please answer me."

Takao doesn't heed his words.

Finally, Midorima gives up, throat constricting from the reality of Takao's silence. Suicide, Akashi had told him. Apparently, Takao thought that nobody wanted to hear all of his chatter anymore.

When Takao opens his clear, dark eyes, he sees Midorima's face buried in his hands, whole form quivering. "Takao, Takao," Midorima says under strained breaths. "Please talk. Anything, I'll listen to anything you say. Just don't be quiet like that."

Takao smiles, transferring his circlet of yarrows slowly turning brown to Midorima's head. Even in his imagination, Midorima can perfectly picture Takao holding a bunch of yarrows in his pale hands, signifying everlasting love in spite of him leaving Midorima behind. It's all Midorima's fault, anyway.

The gesture is not enough to make Midorima stop crying.

"Shin-chan," Takao laughs — so carefree, so happy, and so alive. "You're thinking too much again."

Midorima realizes that Takao is referring to him thinking too much about Takao being there, about him being real with his pulse and laughter and fifty sentences of daily gibberish. He looks up, eyes still blurry and smudged with the tears he swore never to show. But this is Takao he's crying for — perhaps the only person who's worth those tears for. "I'm sorry, Takao."

"Shh," Takao murmurs against Midorima's forehead, lips ghosting over with the intent to kiss. The warmth never comes. "It's okay. You'll be okay, ne?"

When Midorima nods, his sight has cleared a little, and all he can see is a tombstone with Takao's name on it. "I'll be okay, Takao."

Midorima knows that he's still a terrible liar.

If that's what it takes to keep Takao alive even if it's only in his eyes, he'll always be one.

Midorima stares out the window wordlessly, too submerged in his musings to mind about the world.

"Penny for your thoughts, Shin-chan?"