The day Akashi changes is just like any other. In fact, you don't notice until he stops to speak to you after class. The first sign of it comes from the students around him. People bow and scrape to get out of his way. Faster than before, even. One girl catches his gaze and goes the color of old newspaper, before bolting away like a fawn spotted by a starving wolf.
Curious, you drift over to the door, only find Akashi standing there, hands tucked behind his back, polite smiles on his face, and a homicidal grace in his eyes.
You glance at the students, as they huddle together like doves as a hawk circles overhead.
What are they so scared of?
Red hair, placid expression, barely concealed contempt for the stupidity of the people around him. Somehow managing to politely ignore the whole room.
He looks like himself.
Just less subtle about it.
Akashi looks up, catches your eyes. "Hana."
One of his eyes glints in the light.
Gold.
It's like being pushed off ground you knew was crumbling, knew would fail sometime in the future. You never expected it to catch you so off-guard.
...So this is where it ends, huh?
"Something wrong?" Akashi asks.
You lean against him like he's your personal resting post, your front pressed to his, your arms draped over his shoulders like a living scarf. He doesn't flinch at taking your weight, or react much at all. "Hey, so. Your eye is gold. What's up with that?"
His smile is very polite, very homicidal, and very close to your throat. Someone behind you squeaks. "Nothing that you need to concern yourself with. I feel fine. Better than ever, in fact."
You tilt your head, close enough to count his eyelashes. "If you say so."
He hums and you feel it vibrate through your skull. "I do say so."
It's a little sad. You can feel time slipping through your hands, like trying to hold onto sand.
Akashi is fun. You might even call him a friend.
"What did you want, anyway?" You ask.
"I received two tickets to the Ai Yusuke gallery from one of my father's business associates. Would you like to go?"
The tone makes it clear that it''s not a question.
Ai Yusuke is a photographer you sometimes work with. Fairly good - not as good as you, but honestly, who was? He did babble something about some sort of award and made some sort of charity donation, blah blah blah. Should be interesting enough. If you're going to suffer through a crowd of people, it might as well be something you like.
You haven't met Akashi's father yet, but you know the places Akashi takes you are full of people who report back to him. Must be one of those things.
"Sorry, I have a thing that day." You say. "Can't get out of it."
You don't flinch when those eyes - one familiar red, one alien gold - meet yours. They're not pleased, and you feel the command in them.
You keep your face bland, unconcerned.
Why should you be? You do have something to do that day. It's a small job for a minor magazine that you weren't really interested in, but it's better than being forced into meeting Akashi senior.
More importantly.
Akashi ain't the boss of you.
Finally Akashi nods, gracious as a king conceding a favor and slips out of your hold. "I'll pick you up after school." It's a declaration of fact. Gravity pulls, the sun shines, Akashi Seijurou will pick you up after school.
You fold your arms, fingers tapping and you watch him walk away without waiting for your reply.
The end of middle school. That's how long you promised Akash, and now it feels like far too much.
You'll uphold your promise.
Beyond that, you don't have to be involved.
So you're won't be.
The photographs you take go bigger and bigger, and your life goes on. Offers start pouring in, and your time disappears. Most days your only contact with cannon is Akashi texting you for your whereabouts. Basketball drama takes up a very small percentage of your life, and you work hard to make it that way.
Like all good things, it doesn't last.
The day of 111-11 approaches like a freight train, and you don't get out of the way in time.
It feels strange to wear casual clothes around a school. Like the feeling of a clammy hand running up your spine. The day is hot, breezy, and suffocating inside the gym bleachers. You're on the lowest tier, just behind the Rakuzan bench.
Probably. You can't spot anyone you know among the players and both teams look the same to you.
What were the team colors again?
You lean back, cheap plastic chair squeaking, designer sunglasses (a gift from Kasumi) perched on your nose.
Honestly, the only reason you're here is your model got sick in the middle of the shoot. Fever, sweating, mumbling, the works. It got worse when you were around so you wrapped the whole thing up early. You snap a bubble, irritated. The rest of the crew kept giving you pitying looks for some reason. Usually they just avoid you, and you're not enjoying the change.
Whatever. You adjust the sights on your camera. It's one of the professional grade ones you normally don't bring to school. It'd be a waste of time to go home just to drop it off, though.
Your things tend to vanish at school.
You bring the camera to your eye, slowly adjust the focus. A sea of dark hair and uniforms, the yellow court, the white light. It's natural that your eye is drawn to the only contrasting point.
Soft pink hair and a teal sweater. With her head down and her back to you, Momoi doesn't look real, like a watercolor person on a black background. Her hair catches the light and holds it.
Click.
You blink and it's like a spell has broken. Sound rushes back in. You glance down at the hands on the camera like they don't belong to you, like they have a mind of their own.
When you look up a pair of pink eyes catches your own.
For one small eternity, your heart feels quiet. Something expands your chest, and you don't dare move for fear of it spilling over.
Then Momoi smiles and you can breath again. She waves you over.
You vault over the low railing in front of the bleachers and drop to seven or so feet to the ground; you land on you feet, camera in one hand, sunglasses in the other.
Stairs are for losers.
You make your way over, stare at one of the second string members until, face pale, he moves, and you sit next to Momoi.
"I almost didn't recognize you, Hana-chan. Your clothes are so cute!" Momoi says.
You glance down. It's a simple thing dark red shirt Kise outgrew, a bomber jacket and a pair of artfully ripped jeans. "My older sister thinks my fashion sense is a crime against nature. She sends me clothes from america."
"Really? How cool!" She tugs at the fabric of your jacket. "I haven't seen you around lately. Akashi didn't mention that you'd come around today."
"It's a surprise." You say. "Had a thing. Took care of the thing. It's all good."
"Always so articulate, Hana-chan." Momoi says with a laugh that makes her eyes light up. "Akashi is still getting the team meeting done, if you wanted to wait for him."
"Team meeting? Why are you out here?"
She blinks. "What?"
"Well, you're part of the team right? Why are you out here?"
Momoi's mouth opens and closes.
You lean forward, hand on head and look up at her. You're not blind. Without Momoi's dedication, they wouldn't have much of an information network.
Akashi knows that.
Momoi clears her throat and shuffles the stack of papers on her lap. "Well. Thank you, Hana-chan. I'm not that important though, and Akashi has everything handled so I decided to check you the rest of the team and basket-ball basket-ball blah blah sports-"
You stop listening in favor of watching the sway of her hair. The shape of her lips. The tips of her ears are a delicate shade of pale pink. It makes your fingers itch. For the first time, you don't just want to look. To record.
You want to touch.
You study her heart-melting face, her pale skin, her cotton candy hair, her pale eyes, sparking with thought. Linger over her soft looking lips, dark and - moving?
Um.
"Hana-chan, are you listening?"
You blink and drag your eyes away from her mouth. "Sorry. You lost me."
Momoi frowns. "Are you sure you're feeling alright, Hana-chan? Akashi will understand if you have to go home."
Or right. Your boyfriend.
You wave your hand like you're brushing off her concern. "No, it's fine. I'm just a little out of it. Go on."
She's clearly not fooled, by the look she gives you. "...Alright. Tell me if you start feeling sick, okay? I have some honey lemon slices."
You clear your throat. "Nah. I'm fine."
"If you say so. Anyway, I was talking with the other managers and -"
She describes gathering and analyzing data, and you have to tear your eyes from her hair three more times.
What the hell, brain?
A flash of red out of the corner of your eye. You don't flinch when a possessive hand finds your shoulder.
You lean back, looking into Akashi's face upside down. "Yo, Akashi."
Akashi raises an eyebrow. "Hana. I thought you were busy today?"
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Momoi's shoulders go tense.
You flash him a smile. "I finished early and thought I'd be moral support, or whatever."
"Oh?"
"I'm supporting Momoi. It's so unfair to have her do all this work alone. Shame on you, Captain."
Momoi blinks.
You give her a wide eyed, innocent look.
Play along.
She blinks again, and smiles at Akashi too. Her shoulders ease down, with you between her and him. "That's right. I hope you don't mind me borrowing Hana-chan for a while?"
Akashi seems more amused than irritated. His gold eye is stark against red hair. "So long as you return her, Satsuki."
Momoi flashes him a pretty, perfect smile. "Of course, captain."
It doesn't reach her eyes.
You tilt your head.
How long has Momoi known that something is slightly... off about this Akashi?
A long shadow stretches across the bench.
"Akachin, Kisechin is being - why are you here? Go away." Murasakibara says.
"Wishing my boyfriend luck, duh." You say. Then, just to be obnoxious, you reach out for Akashi's hand.
He lets you have it.
You brush your lips against the back of it like he's a fairy tale princess, or a king. You don't look away from Murasakibara's eyes as you do it.
He gags. "So. Gross."
"Don't you have a game to slack off in?"
"I'll crush you -"
A blur of yellow and black barrels into Murasakibara's back, and he barely shifts. "Ow, what are you made of? Stone? Anyway, Akashicchi don't listen to a thing he says, he started it - Hana!"
A prickle of discomfort inches up your neck. "Yo, Kise."
Kise stares, still hanging onto Murasakibara like a blonde limpet. You can't read his expression. "Hanacchi -"
The referee blows an ear piercing note, cutting off whatever Kise was going to say.
Murasakibara glowers down at you.
Akashi keeps smiling, peaceful. "Come, Atsushi. Kise."
Murasakibara clicks his tongue, but he goes.
You roll your eyes. What a big baby.
Kise is still staring at you, eyes reflective as gold and twice as opaque.
"Kise." Akashi says, tone serene.
He jerks around like Akashi pulled some invisible string. "I'm here, I'm here!"
You keep your hand still, not matter how much they want to shake.
Momoi's eyes flick between you and Kise's retreating back, but she doesn't say whatever she's thinking. Instead she sighs. "Why do the two of you hate each other so much? I swear it came out of nowhere."
You blink. "Who? Kise?"
"No! Murasakibara, of course."
"Why..." You lean back and look at the ceiling, the lights create spots of white on your vision.
Why do you hate him?
"His stupid face." You decide.
The apathy on it.
The familiarity.
Murasakibara is you, on days when you don't want to be you. Murasakibara is proud. Talented. He could do anything, could be anything - but that's not what he wants.
He wants to sleep. To eat. To be left alone.
When he dies, he'll enjoy the dark.
Momoi stares at you. "T-that's it?"
You shrug. "Isn't that enough?"
Momoi's face does something complicated, before a helpless smile spreads across her face. "You're not at all like I imagined you, Hana-chan."
You examine your nails. "I have layers. Like an onion."
She laughs and it's like a spark jumps from her mouth to your stomach, setting off a wave that shivers up your whole body and centers in your chest, your heart.
You press a hand to your heart, like that'll stop it.
Did you catch something from the model?
You catch a flash of blue out of the corner of your eye.
Kuroko is difficult to focus on, even normally. In the middle of the crowd, you have to concentrate to keep your eyes on him.
"Why's Kuroko in the stands?" You ask. Have you ever seen him anywhere but on the bench?
Momoi lights up like a lamp. "He is? Where?"
You point. "Right there."
Her nose scrunched as she tries follow your eye-line. "I don't see him." She sighs. "Akashi made him sit out today. Then he disappeared. I don't know why he didn't just join me."
You raise an eyebrow.
She bites her lips and whispers, lips almost brushing your cheek. She smells like mint and something floral. "He got hurt in the last game. Kise didn't tell you?"
Kise doesn't talk to you much anymore.
You look back at the stands - but Kuroko's gone, lost in a sea of last minute arrivals. There are more people than you'd thought there be for a middle school game.
At first, the game is the same as any other. You lose interest as soon as the ball touches the ground, paying more attention to Momoi and your camera then the teams.
The atmosphere is of the team is … strange. Almost relaxed.
Ten, twenty, thirty - the score climbs and every point drives the uneasiness a little deeper. All of the miracles look bored. Murasakibara, shadow long and dark, knocks the ball out of another teen's hands, but he doesn't chase it. Aomine snatches it, drives up toward the center with Kise close on his heels. Almost like the two of them are competing, rather than the actual opposing team.
Murasakibara yawns.
Kise passes to Midorima, who makes yet another basket. The swish of the net is loud over the nearly silent crowd.
Akashi's gold eye glints in the harsh lights.
You eyes flick to the exit. No one is paying attention to you, to fixed on the trainwreck happening on the court. You don't want to watch the crash and burn of a group of friends, people you know and sometimes even like. You slide on your sunglasses, stow away your camera, and stand.
Something tugs on your jacket, and you look down.
Momoi's fingers are curled tight in you blazer and her eyes are worried on Aomine's rampage across the court. Her teeth catch her lips. "Dai-kun…"
You sit back down.
She never lets go, and she never looks at you.
Through it all, Akashi keeps his polite smile. His blank eyes, one red, one gold, both distant, never once looked at the scoreboard.
And then it's over.
You don't see Kuroko anywhere at all.
You sit on the bench, in the empty stadium bleachers.
Momoi is long gone, with the rest of the team.
The squeak of sneakers on the court. You feel Akashi's eyes on you before you look up.
You give a half-hearted salute. "Hey."
Akashi sits next to you, nearly on top of your legs. "You didn't go with the team." He takes your hand and turns it over in his own, like it's a book in a language he's fluent in. His smile is gone for once; he seems like his old self. "Are you done avoiding me?"
You consider the question. "Yeah. I think so."
It's already too late. The end is on the horizon and you're tired of being left alone to your thoughts.
You're fifteen (again). Middle school is almost done. Spending the last of it with Akashi isn't so bad.
You lean onto one hand, watch the sinking sun paint the whole room red and gold. Your skin banded in the colors of the boy next to you.
Akashi leans into you. "No apology?"
You snort.
He smiles. It's not a nice expression. "I do enjoy how forward you are. What did you think of the game today?"
"It was certainly… something."
"Not going to praise me? How cruel, Hana."
"Do I not sound amazed?" You ask, voice at it's most deadpan.
He chuckles. "Feeling sorry for the defeated?"
Akashi is like a black hole. The center and pillar of his own personal universe. Anything not strong enough to hold steady gets pulled in, and they don't get back out.
Are you strong enough?
You laugh. "Have I ever been sympathetic to anyone?"
Akashi smiles again, this time a touch realer; he nudged your shoulder almost like old Akashi did. "No. That's why you are almost my equal."
It's an interesting way to spend your last year, at the very least.
"Only almost?"
"Perhaps if you actually put in some effort, you might be one day."
You pretend to consider that. "Nah. Sounds boring."
He stands, pulls you up by your still connected hands. "Let's go. I've made reservations at an italian place."
You let him pull you up, walk together but apart. "Good. I'm starving."
You don't notice the slow slide into quiet until it Kise comes home early from a modeling job one night. You enter the door and there Kise is, just sitting at the kitchen counter. Once, this wouldn't have surprised you. Once, you would have waited until he returned from practice to eat together.
Now, the two of you lock eyes and you don't know what to say. The words just - won't come.
Kise turns the mug around in his hand. "Hanacchi is late. Akashicchi took you out for dinner?" He finally says.
"...Yeah."
Kise nods and turns the mug in his hands again.
You open your mouth - and nothing comes out.
You don't know how to talk to him anymore.
"Do you love him?" Kise asks.
It takes on long second to understand the words, for you to register the meaning.
"Do I… what?"
Love Akashi?
That sounds as dangerous.
Kise ducks his head, but that doesn't stop you from seeing the blush spreading up his face. "...Nevermind. It's a stupid question."
The scent of hot chocolate fills the silence. "Is something wrong?" You ask.
He starts, looks up. "Oh. No, just… thinking." He… lies.
Kise is lying.
To you.
Kise is lying to you.
It's startles the both of you, because his eyes go wide. Go startled.
But he doesn't take it back and he doesn't say anything else.
You hesitate in the doorway, waiting for - something. Nothing else comes. Your hands fist in your pockets. "...Goodnight." You say.
Kise opens his mouth, and then shuts it. He clears his throat. "Night."
You flip toss the book up in the air, whistling some pop song you heard on the radio this morning. The photo-shoot with Kiss, an american candy company is tomorrow. You're looking forward to it. It'll get you out of the house for a while at least.
A flash of blue stops you just short of running headlong into Kuroko.
The two of you pause. The air is thick with something you hesitate to call awkwardness. It's too prickly for that. Too heavy. Too dark.
"You look like shit." You say.
He does. His hair hasn't been combed. Dark circles live under his eyes, and his normally pale skin is milk white.
His eyes are flat disks set in his head. "Hana-san is quite rude."
You shrug and walk past him. "True. Later, dude."
"Did you know?"
The words halt you. The chatter of students drifts down the hall, somewhere far away. "About what?
"The game." You hear the scuff of shoes on the floor. The rustle of clothes. His blank eyes on your back. "You were on the bench. Either you're heartless as you seem, or you already knew."
You tap the book on your thigh. "Why can't it be both?"
The sun still shines but the temperature drops to sub zero.
"Akashi told you. What he was planning."
"Not really." Future knowledge due to reincarnation probably won't go over well here.
A cold hand grabs your wrist and pulls you around, facing him.
It's most emotion you've ever seen in him.
His eyes burn.
Is this what Kise sees in him?
The thought almost escape out of your mouth, but you catch it, pull it back into the dark where it belongs. You refuse to give Kuroko, of all people, that part of you. That pathetic, childish hurt.
"You could have said something." He says, flat, hard. "Akshi listens to you, you could have -"
"And why," You say. " Would I do that?"
Your wrist aches. Your mind burns.
"Empathy? Basic human decency?" Kuroko glares at you. "Perhaps that's too much to ask. I don't even know if you're half a person. Are you even capable of emotion?"
The words hit you harder than a physical blow.
How dare he.
How dare he.
Isn't the source of your problems speaking to you? Isn't it his fault that Kise doesn't listen to you anymore? To stuck on his stupid infatuation to come home, leaving you alone in that empty house, where you slowly forget how to be a person? Nothing but the dark, the peace. The drawer full of knives in the kitchen.
It would be so easy.
"Maybe," you say, quiet as him. "You should ask yourself that same question. Isn't Akashi your friend? Why didn't you see this coming, Kuroko? Why didn't you stop him?"
He flinches. Drops your wrist like it burned him, takes one step back. "I-"
You're already turning away, hands aching with unspent violence. Something bitter fills your mouth. You want to break his blank mask with more than just words. You want to show him the inside of your head, all the sharp things you keep to yourself.
But.
Kise loves him.
So you bury the rage back into the black. It's hard. It's the hardest thing you've ever done, outside of staying alive, but you unclench your fists. Straighten out your blazer and tie. Smooth out your face into the normal expression of bored blankness. Indifference comes like breathing.
You turn back to him and give him a nod. "If that's all, Kuroko, I have a book to return."
It's not a question.
Kuroko's face is still white, but he inhales. You watch the same thing happen on his face - the anger drains out him like a wave pulling back from the shore. He returns your nod, cool and polite. "Ryugawa-san."
You walk away. The sound of his shoes clicking against the tiles grows fainter in opposite direction.
You and Kise move around each other in a familiar dance. Clubs let out the last week of the school and you let yourself relax, drain the tension. You don't talk, but you wait for him to get done with his morning routine.
He pushes his hair back and gives you a startled smile. For once it reaches his eyes. "Ready?"
You study him. Think about the passport in your bag. Your half packed room.
If this is the last time you see his face, you want to remember it.
"Smile," You say.
Old habits die hard, and Kise gives the camera a blinding grin.
Click.
Kise blinks the flash out of his eyes and laughs. "You haven't changed at all, Hana."
No. You haven't.
You keep that bitter thought behind your teeth. Offer him your fist.
He bumps it.
The walk to school is long and quiet - but companionable. You don't feel that prickly sense of loss, that rejection. Right now, you and he are the same.
The two of you part into the separate classes, still without speaking. The old familiarity is still strained; he's changed to much to fit in with someone like you who lacks the capacity for it.
The crowd shifts around you like a school of fish around a shark. Eyes, hostile, follow you.
You glance up and catch the eye of a girl a year in the year below you. She flinches back, the sneer falling off her face. She looks vaguely familiar - one of the would-be bullies who tried to make you as pathetic as they are.
You snort and turn away.
The sooner you can leave people like her behind, the better.
The graduation ceremony is long and dull in the way all endings are. Tears flow, but not yours.
All you feel is relief.
You're done.
Finally, you're done.
After the ceremony is over, people break into groups. Parents and children crying with each other, friends tearfully promise to keep in touch, students thanking teachers. You drift along the edges of the crowd like a ghost. No one approaches you to take their picture, despite to camera in your hands.
You wave half heartedly to the blindingly beautiful Kise family, gathered around Kise. Neither of your parents are in the country right now, and you're glad. You don't have to pretend to feel anything about graduating.
"Hana."
You glance over your shoulder, face blank. "Akashi."
His school uniform is made of sharp lines and precise angles, a contrast to you half buttoned shirt and undone tie. His eyes sweep over your clothes. "My father is here."
It's half warning, half order.
You've never met Akashi senior, despite three or so years of fake dating.
Breaking that streak would be a shame.
"Is that so." You say.
"Please dress a little more appropriately. I do not care, but he will."
"Welp." You cross your hands behind your head. "It's been fun. Later, Akashi."
He turns to look at you. "Pardon me?"
You shrug. "I'm done. Middle school is over, and I'm not going to high school. Doubt dear old dad wants you dating a drop out. See you later. Or not. Whichever."
Akashi tilts his head. "Of course you're going to highschool. Collage as well."
You raise your eyebrow.
His voice is very calm. Very sure. This is how the world shall be, forever and ever, amen. "You will be attending Rakuzan with me. You never mentioned a preference, so I arranged it."
He... arranged it.
You hum.
Akashi nods once, with satisfaction. "You didn't apply to any of the other prominent schools in the area. If you have a preference for one that's not to far away, that would be fine. As long as it's a fitting place for a future member of the Akashi family." His phone beeped and he glanced at it. "The car has arrived. I've made arrangements at a nice restaurant, in celebration. I will formally introduce you to my father as my fiance. We'll have to make a stop and get you properly outfitted."
Fiance.
It's like the whole last few months snap into focus.
Akashi, this new Akashi, is used to the best. Having the best things, winning the best awards, leading the best people.
Akashi has decided on you, because you are the best.
You didn't understand.
Something cold creeps up your spine, staring at this boy who you might've called a friend.
Akashi the Emperor has no friends.
He has subjects.
The emperor turns to look at you, and his gold eye glints in the light. There's no concern on his face; there's only a small smile. "Something wrong, Hana?"
You look down at your empty hands, clench them into fists. Your throat aches and your voice comes out quiet. "No. Nothing's wrong."
"Come, then. My father is not a patient man."
You shake your head, shove your hands in your uniform jacket. "Goodbye, Akashi. It was fun."
Too late now.
Five months too late, the loss stings.
His brow creases. The smile fades. "Hana, please stop being difficult. There's really no -"
"Akashi." You meet his eyes and you do not flinch. "I'm not attending Rakuzan. I'm not going to Kyoto. I'm not meeting your father. This is a breakup."
His look of incomprehension would be funny, if it wasn't so strange.
Akashi didn't get confused.
If you had any room for it, you might feel some regret. If you were half the person you used to be, you might have stayed just for how lost he looks in this moment.
Akashi will have to explain to his father that his fiance broke up with him. The pressure will mount yet again.
You're not that kind of person anymore.
Selfishness is all you have left, most days.
A long black limousine pulls up while Akashi is still trying to find the words he wants.
"Your ride is here." You say.
Akashi stares at you, eyes like knives. He doesn't move.
A hard look settles over his face and you can see the moment he knows that there's nothing he can offer you that you can't get yourself.
What makes you a perfect fiance also makes you untouchable. Your family is equal to his in power and influence, your skills and interests are in different places, and you don't care about reputation.
There's no lever in the world that can move you.
"You will regret this." Akashi says, like an old time prophet speaking the will of god. "Without me, you will amount to nothing. I can provide you with anything you wish."
You look up at the sky, and the smile on your face is bitter.
What you wish...
Peace, in the dark.
Raising one hand over your shoulder, you give him a single wave. "Goodbye Akashi."
"You have everything you need, Hana? Passport? Work visa? My address?" Kasumi's voice is grainy over the phone, half anxious, half teasing. Rain pours outside. Thunder rattles the windows.
You roll your eyes, phone between shoulder and ear, careful not to drip on it. You already went out and got some nice shots. They'll go up on your blog tonight. "For the third time, yes. It's not my first flight."
Her pout is audible. "I'm allowed to be worried about my delicate baby sister."
Delicate.
Riiight.
"Anyway," Kasumi says. "Where's Ryouta? I don't hear him being a brat in the background. I thought you two were joined at the hip?"
You don't blink, no matter how much your hands clench.
Kasumi can smell weakness.
"The basketball starters had a meeting." You say, voice even.
"And... you didn't tag along?"
"Not a starter."
She laughs. "Like that's ever stopped you before."
"I may have also broke up with their captain today. So."
You doubt Akashi wants you there.
You doubt you want to be anywhere near Akashi.
"...That's red-head, right? Nice."
You roll your eyes.
The doorbell is almost lost under another peal of thunder, lightning carrying your shadow to the far wall.
Kise? Already?
"I gotta go. I think the meeting is over," You say while you drop the cleaning rag on the table. "And Kise's going to need the bath running in weather like this."
Kasumi laughs. "You spoil him too much. Alright, stay safe. I'll see you in a few days." She kisses the phone theatrically.
"See you."
You open up the door. "You're late, Kise-"
It's not Kise.
All of your cheer drains, and you feel your face go blank.
Kuroko stares at you with dead eyes. He's dripping wet, like he spent the last three hours in a shower with all his clothes on. The look on his face is - empty. Not blank, but desolate. Desperate. "Hello, Ryugawa-san. May I have a moment of your time?"
You lean back, arms crossed. Say nothing.
"It's about Kise." He says.
"...Come in"
He comes in follows you down the hall. His steps are silent. It's like he's not there, like something made of cold air and dripping water instead of flesh and blood. You move to the kitchen with him trailing after you like a ghost.
There's a clock on the wall in the kitchen. The ticking dominates the silence.
Even looking at his hair dripping wet and his hands transparent, Kuroko looks like he can stand there waiting for eternity.
More statue than flesh, more cold than boy.
You don't offer him any food. You don't do anything but meet his eyes.
His eyes burn with an emotion you have trouble placing. He glances at the walls - covered in photos. Most of Kise, glittering, grinning, happy. Kuroko's hands go tight for one breath.
And then it clicks.
Hate.
Kuroko hates you.
You tilt your head. "Why are you here, Kuroko?"
Blue eyes stay steady. His hands smooth out. "I am a shadow."
"I know that." You say.
Tension leaves his shoulders, but his face is still wary in that blank way . "The generation of miracles has fallen apart. They don't love basketball anymore. I've tried to talk to them." Her breaks your stare to look down. "They... don't listen to me anymore. Not even Aomine. Not even Kise."
Kise, who loves Kuroko like a man possessed.
The worst part of this is that you're not surprised. Even without your past life, you would have noticed the dimming like in their eyes, the apathy spreading like poison in their blood.
It lives in your head, after all.
Tick.
Your heart sinks, sinks, sinks. The passport in your pocket glows like a hot coal. "And why should I care-"
"I am only a shadow. Without a light, I am weak and useless. Ryugawa-san is one of the lights. Please." Kuroko knelt, and his hair brushed the ground. His voice is raw. "Help me defeat the generations of miracles."
And there it is.
You want to drag the words out of the air.
You want to push him back out the door, lock it in his face.
You want to knock his teeth in.
You were done.
All your ties with the cannon were cut. There was a plane ticket waiting for you. A whole world out there to explore.
Tock.
"Shut up. Just… shut up for a second." You close your eyes. Thirteen years of avoidance and now this. It feels like giving up at the last moment. "You want me to help you. You've never even seen me play."
"Akashi-kun said you would have talent."
"That's taking a lot on faith, Kuroko!"
Kuroko's tiny smile is the bitterest thing you've ever seen. "Akashi-kun is absolute.".
Kagami exists and Kuroko doesn't know that.
The thought freezes you
Kuroko doesn't know that his light is waiting for him, so Kuroko went to the person that he knew had the potential. Even if he hates them. Hates you. Even if he has to bow his head.
But.
What if Kagami doesn't exist at all?
What if you're not the only change in cannon?
You grit your teeth against the image of thirteen year old Kise, laughing, proud and happy for the first time.
This boy, so horribly sincere, who put the smile there.
Without Kise, there's nothing keeping you in japan. Your parents have already approached you about moving abroad — bigger clients, better cases.
But.
Always, always but.
Whatever happens between you and Kise, no matter how you part, he will always be your brother.
Akashi saw Kise's potential. Midorima and Murasakibara are his friends. Aomine gave Kise drive, gave him something to aim for.
Kuroko makes him happy.
"…One condition." You say, each word heavy as a stone in your mouth.
Kuroko's head snaps up. "Ryugawa-san?"
"Shut up and listen to me." You snap.
He flinches.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Let the irritation go. Let it cool, let it end. You've been caught, and it's no ones fault but your own.
Anything, anything for Kise.
Even pairing up with the very person to took him away for good.
"I will be your light. You have one year." You say, without emotion. "Do we understand each other?"
Lightning flashes outside, illuminating his pale skin. His blue eyes.
"Yes." He says, and offers you his hand. "I think we do."
Such a small thing.
You're so tired.
You take his hand.
People have been asking me if this is gay
which. yes. this a gay story. i guess i have to make it more obvious? hana is bi with a preference for women. kise is really really gay. who knows about kuroko (i do. i know).
i love everyone who reviews, even if i never reply. my life is kind of hectic, so thank you for your patience.
this chapter is 2500 words longer than normal to make up for the wait lol
