AN: Hey everyone! I had this idea for a quick oneshot, and so here it is! Thanks, I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you guys have to say both good and bad, because frankly I'm not positive that this is actually coherent.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroko no Basuke.
His hair no longer had any shine in all its gray brittleness, nor was there an abundance of fire in his eyes that had always used to be there, and the wrinkles that were more than beginning to adorn his face seemed foreign on what had once been youthful, practically perfect skin. He was having breathing problems at night, and often had to sleep in a bulky mask that gave him the air of an alien rather than a human being. Sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night screaming and shaking, rousing the whole neighborhood with him, and would take what felt like years to calm down. They would both be sleep deprived the next morning, ready for a good night's sleep, but the cycle would begin again and again until the tiredness had faded to a quiet numbness and the resulting lethargy was all that was behind.
He was not the same man Daiki had met, or the same man Daiki had fallen in love with, or even the same man that Daiki had proposed to and eventually married. Nothing would ever be the way it was before, he knew that for certain, and his life was infinitely different than it had been when he was young, alone, and free.
All of this was true, and yet he couldn't bring himself to give a damn about any of that nonsense. He wasn't the same man Daiki had fallen in love with, but that did not mean he didn't love the more recent version of the man. And Kagami was not the only one who had changed. Daiki was forgetful, slow, downright rude sometimes, though his friends and family would argue that was not exactly a new development, and had a tendency to become irritable whenever his elbows started to act up like they had been doing oftentimes lately. They were both much different than they had been, but one thing had not changed: they fit together just as well as two pieces from different puzzles would. Despite this, it was okay, they were okay, he was okay, because how could he not be when he got to wake up to his own personal dawn each morning?
Daiki cut himself off there, deciding not to overthink it. (Maybe some things never changed after all: he had done a whole lot of not thinking in his middle school and highschool days.) He pushed the right leg out from under the covers painfully slowly, and let the left leg follow at a pace that rivalled that of a snail's. Shifting slightly so as to turn around, he placed a kiss on the wrinkly old forehead of the person who was still the most beautiful man he had ever known.