Written about a million years ago for the "addicted" challenge on temps mort. When the hell was the last time I wrote in the second person?
Three-Pointer Kissing
The first time he kissed you, he was terrified. Not that he'd ever admit that – he's Tachibana Akane, after all – but he was terrified. You, on the other hand, were too startled to even be shocked. So he kissed you, and then gave you this sort of sullen, obstinate glower, as if double-daring you to go ahead and react to what he'd just done.
The second time he kissed you (just a few minutes later) it was terrible; awkward and fumbling, both of you too nervous to enjoy it and your hands shaking so badly you had to jam them in your pockets. But it was still good enough that you wanted to do it again. A lot.
The third time was different. Not so much mind-numbing anxiety, for one thing, and you were both getting a lot better at figuring out exactly what you were supposed to be doing here. And just like the first two times, there was this sudden rush of adrenaline and endorphins that hit you hard in the back-brain and made you want to start laughing at the sheer insane pleasure that was Kissing Tachibana Akane.
Now you've run out of digits on which to count the number of times that you've kissed him and he's kissed you; keeping an exact tally is a lot less important than the fact that you do it at every possible opportunity – and besides, who can keep score when you're on a hormone high and Tachibana's got his tongue in your mouth?
You never imagined that anything could ever give you the same buzz you get out on the court, with the crowd chanting and the floor dancing under your feet as you slide past the final defender. And then that moment; the second after the ball leaves your hands and before it drops through the net; that indescribable moment when you can feel everything come together and, for just a second, you're God.
No, you definitely never thought you'd feel like that anywhere that isn't a basketball court.
Live and learn, eh? And at least you don't have Minefuji yelling encouragement at you from the sidelines, though you're not sure she wouldn't, if she ever found out.
It's still a bit unnerving, though, feeling like this. You've been playing basketball for a long time, and you know where you stand with it; it's your sport, your passion, but you're aware that, eventually, other things might have to take priority. You know that someday you might have to give it up, and you know that, if you have to, you can.
But this thing with Tachibana isn't basketball. You have no idea where it ranks in your list of priorities – where he ranks – and there's absolutely nothing in your experience you can measure this against. You don't even know exactly what "this" is. All you can say for sure is that you like it, maybe as much as basketball. Maybe more.
And you're really not sure you could ever give it up.