written while listening to ella henderson's beautifully unfinished.
When Ryouta dropped the honorific he usually never forgot to use, something must have gone wrong.
Kuroko had learned to understand the causes. Perhaps something happening at work managed to get on his nerve. Perhaps he lost a thing he treasured the most. Perhaps he was on the verge of breaking down. Perhaps someone he held most dear was in distress and it plunged him into a deep well of worries.
This time was, with no doubt, the last case.
Kuroko had been awake for quiet some time now. Only she didn't bother to open her eyes. Only she didn't bother to blink to take in her surroundings. At least not when she wasn't on her own.
She needed some time to compose herself first. She spent the whole day steadying her once ragged breath, recalling what had happened the night before, and maintaining a quiet feign of sleep. So far no one had found out and Ryouta wasn't an exception.
She could feel the soreness across her stomach, and her lower legs, and basically her entire limbs. She had never known that getting bumped by a car driven by a drunken driver would be this much of pain in the neck. She didn't even know what happened to that drunken driver afterwards, for she had fallen asleep as soon as blood had started to pool beneath her body. She sure had sustained a few broken bones, which had happened to be her right arm and leg, all casted and bandaged, but here she was, living and breathing; at least she had survived the worst hence the condition.
"Tetsuya."
It took a great deal of efforts not to reach for Ryouta's face and dried tears, but Kuroko decided she didn't want to open her eyes just yet. She listened to her deepest mind that repeatedly said she was alive, and she was alive, and her heart still beats as loud as the life itself.
She wondered whether every person going through a near-dead experience would do the same.
"Wake up, will you?"
Ryouta's voice was deep and sorrowful. As if the man had been shattered a thousand times and still had to endure a thousand more. Was that all because of her? Kuroko couldn't help but wonder. No one had ever cried for her before, begging her to wake up and not to leave them alone. No one had ever held her hand so tight the way he did, when excruciating pain toying with her consciousness and she saw nothing but solid black.
No one had ever cared about her that much. And when finally one happened to waltz into her life, it just had to be Ryouta of all people, with his bright eyes and dazzling smile, his bothersome bear hugs and annoying whines, his gentle hum and soothing laughter.
How does it feel to love someone who loves you back dearly?