A/N: I suddenly really felt like writing an Aokise thing, even though I've never tried to write either of them in my life, and even though it's not the highest on my list of pairings, so I just quickly wrote this up in my spare time. I didn't put much time into it, I have to say, but...well, it's just a little one-shot I think. Just a nice way to spend my breaks in my study plan. I'm not really sure if it's out of character or not. Sorry if it is.
Kise Ryouta was a puppet that had entangled himself in his own strings. No one felt it necessary for the kid to try as hard as he did; to please people so fervently. But to obey was what the blonde lived for. Without anyone to make happy, he'd be lost. Without anyone to look up to, he'd be lost. Without anyone to challenge, he'd be lost. Without anyone to pay him any mind, he'd be lost.
Kise Ryouta was a puppet that couldn't live on his own.
Kise Ryouta was a puppet that couldn't live without purpose.
Aomine couldn't understand why Kise gave people the strings they needed to control him. He couldn't for the life of him understand why he treasured such manipulative relationships as much as he did; why he found it so difficult to cut those thin bonds with other people. He had the ability to prevent bonds from forming, so why did he not have the ability to break them? It was like only he himself could choose who he would open himself up to, yet he happily sold his body to whoever needed him. He sold his body to the fans who loved him, he sold his body to the manager who wanted money, he sold his body to the teacher who praised him, he sold his body to the basketball team that needed him.
Puppets needed to be controlled to have a purpose, but Kise shouldn't even be one.
Aomine wasn't quite sure when he first noticed what an obedient dog Kise was. He wasn't quite sure when he noticed the kid doing things he wasn't in the mood for simply to please other people. But when he noticed, saying that he was fucking pissed was an understatement. He'd thought about bringing it up while they were still attending Teikou – and he did – but like the expert of faking faces and devising words the blonde was, he always quickly diverted the conversation elsewhere.
Kise's adamance at staying silent about the matter pissed Aomine off more than he seemed to think: personally, he wasn't all that bothered by it. That was why, when it eventually seemed like an impossible mission, the tanned boy quite easily abandoned it and never picked it up again.
It was only after Touou's match with Kaijou that Aomine pondered the subject again. Actually, that was a bit of a lie. The thought had come across his mind, but he hadn't lingered on it. It was only after the games Kaijou had played against Fukuda Sougou and Seirin that he really took the time to think about it. Why did the fucking idiot not wait until his legs had recovered from their match before he began practicing again? No, more than that, why did he push himself as hard as he did?
All right, so maybe the kid just wanted to surpass him; wanted to win against him—as self-centred as that train of thought was, it seemed plausible. But why go to such lengths? If Aomine said he held no admiration for the kid, he'd be lying, but honestly, he found a lot of it stupid. If he caused irreparable damage to his legs, how the fuck did he plan on even just practicing his basketball, never mind beat him in a game?
On the other hand, it could be because Kaijou were given too many strings to control him with. Paired up with too much of his trust, it kind of made sense why the dumbass never let his legs heal: his basketball team held too much of a grip on Kise for him to run away and that grip was getting tighter and tighter and tighter until there was sure to come a day when it would suffocate him. And more than anything, that was what Aomine didn't want.
It was for that reason that suddenly meeting Kise in an outside basketball court sent nothing but rage pumping through his blood.
At first, he'd had no idea who it was – and it didn't exactly bother him not knowing. But when he saw that familiar splash of yellow and heard that smooth well-known voice of the boy, he knew without doubt that it was Kise. There was just a few things wrong with the situation: one, that voice was screaming and shouting like Satan had pissed on him and ran; two, this was Tokyo, and though it wasn't all that far from Kanagawa, it still took about half an hour by train to get here; and three, it was fucking bucketing it down with rain.
Why the fuck was Kise Ryouta in Tokyo with not even a jacket shouting like a fucking tool while flinging a basketball against the backboard time and time again when it was pissing it down with rain?
"Oi, Kise!" Aomine couldn't hide the anger he'd felt and his voice was the number one sign. "The fuck are you doing!?"
Those blue eyes had seen the jump that erupted from the blonde's shoulders the moment all movement had ceased. "Should you not be at home resting your legs?" he asked, softening his voice as he threw his hands into his jacket pockets.
By the time Aomine had stopped a few feet away from the drenched figure, he still hadn't turned round—still hadn't said anything.
"Oi, Kise."
No response.
"Kise!"
The sudden increase in intensity and volume seemed to trigger something with the blonde, and ever so slowly, he turned himself round. "A-Ahhh, Aominecchi! I didn't expect to see you here!" A large smile adorned his face at the greeting, but something in the kid's voice just made it all fake.
No. It wasn't just his voice.
"Don't give me that fucking shit. If anything, that should be my line. What are you doing here out in the rain while your legs are still hurt? In fact, why are you even in Tokyo?"
As if his ability at devising stories at the drop of a hat had been completely eradicated, Kise seemed to stand and think for a while before he actually responded: "I just happened to be in the area for a photo shoot so I thought I'd come here for a bit. And besides, my legs aren't that bad."
'Like fuck they aren't.'
Aomine almost felt offended at the way Kise was trying to hide the real reason for the current situation being a possibility. 'It's not that hard of a question, is it?'
"For fuck's sake, Kise." Surprise plagued the other's face at the sudden remark. "Do you think I'm thick or somethin'?"
"Hmm…well, if we're talking about basketball, then no. But for everything else? Yeah." Kise's tone was still light and floaty, despite Aomine's attempt at getting him to talk. See, it wasn't that the boy cared much for why the kid was in Tokyo, though it did pique his curiosity slightly – what he cared about was stopping the blonde from causing any more damage to his legs. If knowing the reason for his existence in the capital would benefit that cause, he wanted to be told that reason.
In a normal case, Aomine probably couldn't care less. But there was still something inside him that secretly yearned for those one-on-ones with Kise. True; he had Kagami now if he ever wanted to have a little competition. But Kise was good. Aomine couldn't deny that. For someone that had had nowhere near as much experience that the rest of the Generation of Miracles had, he was fucking good. It had never clicked that he'd felt it, but throughout his team's match with Kaijou, he had felt unbelievable masses of excitement. It was so similar to that warm rush he always got whenever he played one-on-one with Kise—and that was where something in his brain clicked.
Aomine really fucking missed having one-on-ones with the model.
It wasn't straight away that he'd realised it. In fact, he'd probably never have realised it if not for Satsuki's assistance. But that longing for another match between the two of them was there and whenever the blonde's name popped up somewhere, it nagged at him—fucking nagged at him.
But Aomine knew that Kise couldn't play a goddamn thing in his current state and there was no fucking way he was going to force him.
"Do your parents know you're here?" was the next question Aomine asked, ignoring the insult that had been given to him.
"Yeah, they do." It was the first thing Kise had said that sounded genuine and, though there was still that hint of hesitation in his brain, he allowed himself to believe it.
"Well, either way, it's not good for you to stay out here in the rain with so little on." Aomine puffed out a short breath of air before speaking his next words: "How about staying at my place for a bit? You know, until the rain dies down."
Really, he was supposed to be going to Satsuki's – she had invited him over to watch a movie and, as much as he hated her sappy romances, with nothing else to do on such a shitty day, he quite happily accepted – but given the circumstances, he was certain she'd understand. 'Maybe I can ask if she could bring some food round?'
"…ry."
"Hm?"
"I'm so…"
"Stop being so damn quiet already!"
"I'm sorry."
It wasn't much louder, but Aomine had heard it, and he couldn't help notice how it had come out.
"Aominecchi," the boy took a quick breath before he continued, "I'm so, so sorry."
"Stop apologising, crybaby."
Aomine didn't smile, didn't joke around, didn't make any real attempt to cheer the other up. Any feelings he really had were left unspoken as he zipped down his jacket, pulled it off, and wrapped it around the other's shoulders.
"I don't think many people will take you catching a cold very happily, Kise," he said in his usual drawl, in an attempt to stop the other protesting.
Not that it actually worked.
"But Aominecchi, what if you end up catching a cold!?" the model shouted, already starting to push the fabric off of him.
"Hm." The tanned boy seemed to reconsider something before taking the jacket and sticking his arms through the sleeves yet again. "I suppose idiots don't catch colds, do they?" There was a smirk on his face as he glanced down at the smaller who had nothing but a stunned and somewhat conflicted expression.
"…Actually, you know what, on second thoughts, give me your jacket back," Kise quickly spoke, attempting to pry the taller's fingers from one of the sleeves he was tightly gripping onto.
"But what if I catch a cold?"
"Idiots don't catch colds, idiot."
"You're one to talk."
Kise scowled at the tanned male, before his features quickly changed to a much more solemn expression and his incessant tugging stopped. "…You know, no one actually knows I'm here."
A sigh escaped Aomine's lips.
"Thought so."
The two remained in silence as Aomine re-covered the shivering figure with his upper layer and they remained in silence for a while after that. Instead of moving him anywhere, he just let the kid silently cry without saying a thing to him. He let him hide his head and cry to himself. He let him keep that small shred of pride that he'd managed to protect in his small manufactured body of limbs and string.
His eyes would no doubt be red after everything was over and done with, but at least the rain would wash away everything else. At least the rain would wash away the proof of the vulnerability that he had shown in front of his previous idol. At least the rain would blend with his tears. At least the sky would cry along with him. At least he wouldn't be alone with his burden.
A few minutes later and a vibration in his pocket snapped Aomine into the present time. With it no doubt being a text from Satsuki, he decided it better to leave it for the time being – he could send a text back or call her later, when they were back at his house, warm and dry.
Although the quiet sobs and shoulder jerks that occasionally slipped past still hadn't fully died down, Aomine stuck a wet hand through even wetter hair, and made some attempt at a hair ruffle. "How about we head back to mine's for now?" he asked for the second time. "My parents won't be back until later tonight, so you don't have to worry about being interrogated or anything."
Kise made no joking comment on Aomine's kindness.
Aomine made no sardonic comment on Kise's crying.
Kise made no verbal response to Aomine's question.
Aomine didn't push Kise for one.
That one simple, short nod was all he needed.
A/N: There we go! Hope you could enjoy it!