Disclaimer: All identifiable characters belong to Fujimaki Tadatoshi. The plot and story are mine.
This is companion story written for OTP Battle 2014. It takes place some time after the Winter Cup.
To the Future
Ceallach Rion
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December 30th, night.
.
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The whizz of the vending machine and the light it emitted stood out amidst the dim atmosphere and the cool winter air.
Kuroko's walk to the park that evening was spontaneous, driven by the need to clear his head and be alone. After the fated game the night before, it was only then did he feel that the most difficult chapter of his life so far had finally come to a close. Disappointment was present for certain matters left unresolved, but it was not predominant nor did it cause him grief.
He inserted money into the coin slot after deciding on his choice of drink, but another finger beat him to pressing a button, causing the machine to rumble to life as it processed the order.
The drink fell with a clunk onto the lower compartment, and Kuroko glanced behind him to face the culprit.
"Akashi-kun," he uttered when he saw Akashi's familiar and composed face through the fog of his own breath.
Unlike him, Akashi was clad in layers of clothing, with a jacket, boots and gloves accompanying his attire. It was expected of Akashi's image; Kuroko knew he was leaving soon. It was only a matter of time before everybody had set off for the coming of the new year.
Akashi regarded him with a nod and jerked his head towards the machine. Taking it as a sign, Kuroko silently crouched down and retrieved a can from the dropbox. He was barely paying attention until he winced from the light sting on his skin, the heat of the tin under his touch leaving a red mark on his hand. Akashi, having noticed, loomed behind his form and took the can in his place — it was coffee, Kuroko noted, held by a gloved hand.
"I don't drink coffee," Kuroko said as he stood back up and blew cold breaths into his palms, later slipping them in the pockets of his jeans for warmth.
"I am aware," Akashi answered. He walked to the bench and rested the can there, probably to cool. He did not turn around when he spoke next. "What were you aiming to get?"
Akashi's back was ominous, at least that was how Kuroko viewed it until today. A part of him wanted to reach out to it, to encase his form within his arms, but Kuroko held himself together instead. It had always been like this, their relationship. It was neither in high tide nor low ground — it was ambiguous, indefinite — though Kuroko had always believed that the connection, though not vocally addressed, was visible enough to exist, and even strong enough to last.
"…Pocari." The answer was silly, Kuroko knew.
By the time Akashi faced him again, one of his hands was now raised and exposed. Approaching, he pulled Kuroko's arms from the jeans pocket where his hands were buried in and slid a glove on Kuroko's left hand, the other he held.
"At this time of the night?" Akashi chided, short of his usual tone of scolding. "The works of your mind never fail to boggle me at times."
Akashi sandwiched their bare hands between the gloved ones and Kuroko allowed him to do so as he clasped the other in his hold. "Should I take that as a compliment, I wonder," he muttered in half-hearted wonder.
"Interpret it however you wish." Akashi curiously observed the tangle of fingers. "I acknowledged your thought process, though it does not necessarily lean towards positivity."
"…I am being criticized, then."
"Hm."
The snow began to fall and a gust of wind blew on their clothes, but Kuroko was transfixed in the way Akashi's breath formed a fog over his mouth and how it brushed against his face, how delicate snowflakes dusted his bright red hair and he bothered not to brush them away.
"I…" Kuroko began. His expression was unreadable and no words spilled from his lips. Everything he wanted to say was bubbling at the surface but refusing to erupt out of hesitance. The ordeal had ended, yet it was still so difficult to—
"Kuroko."
Akashi looked up, eyes boring into Kuroko's own that the latter was left with no choice but fall into silence. It was that look, the same look that tossed Kuroko back into his younger years — to the moment when he first met Akashi Seijuurou and the Kuroko Tetsuya he once knew was still a weak little boy with dreams. It was astonishing to witness after all this time when he thought that such an expression would never appear again.
"Thank you," Akashi uttered, then closed the gap between their lips.
The gears in his head stopped working in those two short seconds of contact. Kuroko barely had time to close his eyes and process it when Akashi pulled away.
"Why…?" Kuroko was unsure of what he was asking about, if about the kiss or the words of gratitude, but it was unnecessary to mull over because Akashi chose not to answer.
"Will you see me off?" Akashi asked instead, no more than a few centimeters of proximity between them. Their breaths mingled in the little space.
Kuroko stared at him in return, the reality of the situation of their parting dawning on him. However, there was no remorse when he replied, "Will you come back?"
Akashi appeared to have thought it over for a moment before releasing their hold on each other and slipping his other glove off for Kuroko to wear. Turning around, he retrieved the can of coffee from the bench — it had cooled by now — and beckoned for Kuroko to follow with a snap of the pull-tab.
And Kuroko did, a small smile etched on the corner of his lips as he slid his hand through the offered glove. It fit snuggly on him, if not just a tad bit bigger, with Akashi's warmth still lingering in the fabric.
They walked in silence to the destination of their final stop together, each step savoured with the company of the other by their side. Akashi's answer was as clear as day.
.
.
Perhaps.
.
.
Kuroko asked himself if it was worth it, and he understood now that it was. Even if things remained as they were for now, he knew that Akashi had finally come home.
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