Title: Snowball Effect
Warning: n/a
Disclaimer: what never
Notes: this idea was just haunting me, so i had to write it — and well, here we go. this is not beta-read, but i'm hoping to get a beta soon! if you're interested, please contact me, i will love you forever i swear. but ahah with that aside, i hope you guys enjoy this! and yes, this is incomplete, meaning there will be future chapters. other than that, happy reading? ; u;

零

"I guess this is it, huh?"

There was a pause and a flicker of eyelids.

"Yes."

Takao cradled the back of his head and peered up at the orange sky. He chuckled, then laughed, but the supposedly joyous sounds coming from him were dry. Noticing this, he stopped.

Ah ... his heart was hurting.

"When you become a doctor, give me free check ups."

A doctor. Midorima wanted to become a doctor, which meant he had to go straight into medical school after graduation. Of course, Takao knew of Midorima's intention before, but he had never really thought about it — until now.

"Like hell I will."

Studying medicine was completely different from what Takao wanted to do; unlike Midorima, he wanted to pursue basketball.

"Don't be stingy."

Takao glanced over at his partner in hopes of seeing his expression distort, but he was disappointed; Midorima remained poised and silent, his eyes never moving from the road in front of them. His lips, however, were pressed into a line, and this alone told Takao that he was deep in thought.

What was he thinking about?

That was one thing he didn't like about Midorima. There were times when he was the easiest person to read; other times, his lack of expression made him appear inhuman.

Midorima's forehead began to crease, and Takao started to process what was going on.

He was thinking of that. Considering the current situation and the future, it was now apparent to him what thoughts were being thrown around in Midorima's head. And knowing this only made his chest ache more. He didn't want to hear it. They've only been together for a year, and a year was too short — much too short. He didn't want to hear it.

As the burden of these thoughts weighed him down, he slowed to a halt, but Midorima continued walking. With each step, he got farther — and farther — and —

Midorima was always moving ahead and leaving him behind. That was another thing Takao hated about him. He never stopped to wait; he just kept walking, and the farther he was, the harder for him to catch up. For the last three years, Takao had played the chasing game, but now, seeing just how much distance there was in between them, he couldn't play anymore. He had to let go, because he knew he would never catch up; that was the sad truth.

It was funny, though. He had spent three entire years chasing someone he knew for a fact he would not be able to reach — yet, he still tried. Did he regret it? Hell no. Despite the ups and downs of their relationship, he was happy. Midorima made him feel wanted, needed, and he liked that.

But it had to end here.

Midorima was walking down another path, and if he continued chasing him, he wouldn't be able to pursue basketball. And that was one thing Takao was unwilling to give up.

Swallowing, he bunched his fingers into twin fists and squeezed his eyes shut. "Midorima." Shin-chan marked the days they were together, and since those days would be no more, it was Midorima. "Let's break up."

The scrap of shoes against gravel told him that Midorima had stopped walking. His eyes opened to confirm this. Midorima wasn't looking at him, and for a moment, Takao wanted to take back what he had said — but he knew better than that. He didn't want to hear Midorima say it, so he had to say it himself. Even if he took it back, nothing would change; they would still part ways in the end.

"You didn't have to say it," Midorima said, turning around and locking eyes with him.

"Someone had to."

No matter how hard Midorima was trying to suppress it, Takao could see the ever familiar expression slipping away. It first started with the eyes. What once held pride now reflected hurt, and it was a hurt Takao never wanted to be responsible for. Next was the mouth. His lips were no longer pressed together, but rather parted as if he wanted to say something. Then came the eyebrows. Curved toward the center, they illuminated just how destructive words were. Takao had never seen such disappointment.

"Sorry."

The last bit of self-control finally crumbled away, and Takao found himself looking at someone he didn't recognize.

Midorima shifted to turn away but, at the last second, held firm. "I understand."

He wanted Midorima to say more, but he knew him saying more would only jeopardize the fragility of this situation.

"I'll ... see you later, yeah?"

"This is goodbye."

No, this wasn't goodbye. He didn't want this to be goodbye.

But how could he be so certain that they would cross paths again? A chance was plausible, but he knew he shouldn't get his hopes up. Midorima was going to a school half-way across the country, after all.

"I suppose it is." Takao let out a breath. "It was nice being your partner."

It surprised him how Midorima could still keep his posture even though his facade had slipped away.

"You as well."

This marked the end of their relationship.

"Goodbye."

Takao offered him a small and — for once — forced smile. Midorima didn't return it.

"Goodbye."

That was the last time he saw Midorima.

— Or so he thought.

Five years later, fate decides to be kind.