Aomine Daiki had been in love, and he could not say for certain the exact moment when it had happened. What he did know for certain was that the stars had not suddenly began to dance, he still could not appreciate the brilliance of colorful flowers on a summer day, and he had not suddenly been enlightened with the ultimate and eternal happiness. Nonetheless, he was in love.
Love, or at least the love he had had, was not the way movies and novels and that godforsaken shojo manga described it to be. It was not explosive or sudden, nor had it made all of his pain magically vanish. He had come to realize that loving Kagami was more like breathing, absolutely essential but taken for granted. It kept his heart beating and his blood pumping, and it gave his brain the ability to function. Humans could only survive for five minutes after losing their supply of oxygen before either death or permanent incapacitating brain damage set in.
Aomine did not have this luxury of becoming unaware when Kagami was taken from him. He was just as dead as someone who had suffocated or drowned, and his brain worked just about as well. Sometimes he would unwillingly catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and the thing staring back at him was pale, bony, and blank faced, the way he imagined a rotting corpse would be. Satsuki had told him more than once that not only did he look the part, he smelled like one too.
Aomine Daiki had been in love, and it had become his very reason for being. His whole life had not been altered, because breathing was not life-altering, and yet it seemed that when this love was gone there was absolutely nothing left.