So. Um. Yeah.
I have spent (with no amount of exaggeration) about two months on this chapter. It's ruined me. My writing style seems to be kinda inconsistent over the chapter; I'm not sure if it's just because it's early morning and I've read through it a zillion times, or because it's been written over such a long time span.
I anticipate that we've got one more chapter to go, I'm sorry if this seems like a filler. I don't know, I'm extremely unsatisfied with how this turned out. I've been in a sort of writing funk for a while now, and it may have rubbed off on this chapter in a wrong way.
Again, my apologies, and for any grammar/spelling mistakes that you find.
Other than that, my brain isn't functioning right and I should sleep.
As always, enjoy, and let me know what you think!
P.S. Generally, each scene alternates between the present and past (a month or two back). Scenes relating to Kou happened in the same period. I tried to make it obvious, but just in case you get confused.
Awareness trickled into him slowly, consciousness spreading through his mind like a stain. The first thing that he was aware of was a constant, muted beep that tickled his memory. The air around him was still, but cold, and there was a soft stiffness under his head. He tried to wriggle his toes, finding that there was some sort of porous cloth that hampered the movement. His arms were by his side, and were laid over the cloth that covered him from the waist down. His fingers twitched of their own accord, and there was something there, too, that didn't feel natural. He inhaled deeply, tasting clean, dry air that condensed thickly against the plastic mask over his face when he exhaled. His sight was the final sense to awaken, his eyelids parting with difficulty, like rusty shutters. His eyes felt too big for their sockets, the urge to rub at them building with every tic of a muscle.
Everything was a blur of white at first, the sharpness of it stinging, and making him squint. Shapes began to form, the stark, pure white of everything contorting into what his mind supplied, was a ceiling. He looked around, gradually noticing the variations in the white around him, along with the blocks of brown, grey, and blue that was the furniture. There was a burst of colour, as a rather dismal display that was mounted on the wall across from him tried to cheer the room up.
It occurred to him that he was in a hospital room. His mind came to a screeching halt.
What was he doing there?
xx
"Aomine-kun!" It didn't even register that the scream had come from him. He felt his throat clam up in a choked panic, not aware that the words that boomed in his head were being voiced. He ran, covering the few metres that lay between him and the fallen man in seconds, and dropped to his knees beside the other's body with little care to the blood that immediately began to seep into his jeans. Hands on Aomine's shoulders, he rolled him over, a sob catching in his throat when he caught sight of the wound that was right in the centre of his chest. His shirt was completely drenched in red, the sight of it making Kuroko blanch. The amount of blood that pooled around them was ridiculous, there was no way a person could have that much blood in them. Pressing down on the wound in a vain attempt at stemming the flow, he looked about frantically for help. His outburst had drawn curious eyes, and there was already someone calling for an ambulance. A crowd had formed around the two bodies, but they stood far enough that Kuroko didn't feel the need to snap at them.
He hauled the larger man into his lap and leaned over Aomine's face, hating the bit of blood that dripped off his chin, and the way his face was calm, as though he had just fallen asleep in the middle of the street. Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead to the other's, beyond caring what anyone in the audience around them thought.
"Don't die," he whispered brokenly, the sound of his own voice foreign to his ears. "Please, you can't die."
xx
The beeping, he soon realized, was coming from a machine beside his bed, one that he had seen enough times to know what it was for. His right arm had two needles embedded in it that led to two separate machines. He was surrounded by wires and tubes, criss-crossing over each other until he couldn't even tell where one began and another ended.
Barring the perpetual beeping, the room he was in was silent. Uncomfortably so. Even his own breathing sounded loud, and there didn't seem to be any signs of activity beyond the door. His bed was the only one, right in the middle of the room. Everything was bare and stark, but nothing was old. The equipment looked fancy, as did the TV that was mounted on the wall opposite, just below the decal.
What bugged him more than the fancy, clean feel of the room, was that he was alone.
There was a chair pulled up to the side of his bed that had a baby blue blanket tossed haphazardly over the back of it, and what looked like a half-eaten sandwich.
He was alone, but he hadn't been all this time. The thought made him release a relieved sigh.
Something else nibbled at the back of his mind, a thought popped up that made him glance down at his upturned hands. He studied them closely, curiously, turning them around and flexing his fingers slowly, watching with intent as the digits curled and uncurled.
Something wasn't right.
xx
Kuroko had climbed into the back of the vehicle after Aomine, jaw set and ready to defend his position lest anyone try to part them. He had placed himself between Aomine and Kou, like a barrier of sorts. He would occasionally glance over his shoulder to make sure the bastard was still out of it. The van sped through traffic, alarms blaring. Kuroko watched as the paramedics hooked Aomine up to support lines, his eyes honing in on where red was steadily blooming over the white gauze. The men were talking among themselves, using jargon that Kuroko wasn't in the frame of mind to try to decrypt. The fact that they were doing something, anything, and that Aomine's chest was still rising and falling was all he had the capacity to comprehend right then.
Akashi had arrived at the hospital five minutes after the ambulance.
Kuroko didn't know how he found out, seeing as he had been too preoccupied with making sure Aomine's heart kept beating, but he had never been more grateful for the quiet solace that his brother afforded him. He trailed after Aomine until he had been wheeled into the operating theatre, and it was only then that he realized that Akashi had been shadowing him the entire time.
He'd spun around into the solid warmth of Akashi's chest and the tears that he hadn't had the time to cry flowed, unrestrained.
xx
The door opening jarred him out of his reverie, and he glanced up quickly at the intruder. The man froze in the doorway, eyes widening and the hand on the doorknob going slack.
"Ao-Aomine-kun?" He stuttered hesitantly. When the said man did nothing but stare at him blankly, Kuroko shut the door behind him and slowly inched across the room, as though unsure if what he was looking at was real. He came to a stop at the bedside, and dropped the book he had been holding unceremoniously onto the chair. It landed atop the leftover sandwich.
Reaching out tentative fingers, he brushed them over Aomine's cheek, and then jerked away as though the touch had electrified him.
"It's true," he whispered, looking into the dark depths that were studying his face. "You're really awake."
Aomine felt an immediate sense of calm that rushed through him at the first touch. But there was something fundamentally wrong here. He didn't feel right. His body didn't feel like it belonged to him. Kuroko's expression had been full of wonder at first, but under his steady, silent gaze, confusion and uncertainty clouded those bright blue eyes. Alarmed at the flash of panic he saw in Kuroko's eyes, he lifted his hand, cupping the side of the pale-skinned man's jaw. He stroked his thumb over the softness of Kuroko's cheek gently until he visibly relaxed.
He opened his mouth to say the first thing that came to mind, deeply perturbed by the thick cloak of tense silence that wrapped around them. It was when he tried to vocalize the first word that he recalled that there was a mask over his face. Aomine contemplated removing the thing, his thumb stilling as he concentrated hard. Momoi had always told him that he was stupid, but was it usually this difficult for him to process thought?
Kuroko seemed to sense the internal conniption that he was having and placed a soothing hand on his forehead.
"It's okay, relax," he murmured softly as he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to Aomine's temple. "You're shot full of painkillers and medicine. The doctor said it's nothing to worry about if you feel weird."
Aomine tugged Kuroko's hand away and twined their fingers together. Calmness washed over him again and he wished he could lift the pale digits up to his lips like he wanted to. Instead, he settled on squeezing them, a small smile lifting up the corners of his lips when the action was reciprocated in kind.
xx
After eighteen hours of Kuroko wearing the floor thin and unsuccessful prodding on his part to get his brother to fill his stomach, the doors to the operating theatre had finally slid open. Akashi was honestly somewhat surprised when the doctor who had appeared had given them the thumbs up sign. Surprised, and perhaps a smudge disappointed.
Kuroko, on the other hand, had drawn in a shaky breath, collapsed into the plastic seat beside him and turned glistening eyes to him. Akashi had to swallow a chuckle at his words.
"I'm hungry."
"Go eat," he said, pushing lightly at Kuroko's shoulder. It didn't take much more prompting than that, now that Kuroko knew that Aomine was out of harm's way.
He waited for his brother to round the corner before turning back to the doctor who stood patiently by. His voice had lost the gentleness that he reserved specially for Kuroko. "Well?"
"He's alive, and stable," the man said as he undid the mask that covered half his face. He appeared hesitant to continue, but after a quick appraisal of the redhead before him, he plunged on. "That's really the most positive thing I can say right now. We lost him three times throughout surgery, and we'd already given up at the third time when his pulse started up again. I'm afraid that there might be some brain damage from the trauma. That, and the bullet passed dangerously close to his heart. It shattered two of his ribs and a splinter of bone cut open an artery, which was why he was bleeding so much. We barely managed to give him a blood transfusion in time."
Akashi pursed his lips. "In spite of all that, he's pulled through?"
"He's a tough one to knock out," the doctor shrugged. "There were a couple of other healed bullet wounds I found. He's definitely no stranger to pain."
"Side effects?"
"Like I said, possible brain damage. Trauma can lead to other disorders, but there's no way of telling now. Depending on how well he heals up, he might have to stop all sorts of strenuous activity or he could kill himself." He replied, wondering if he should be worried about the wicked glint in the redhead's eyes.
"Very well, thank you," Akashi stood and bowed slightly.
He found his brother in the empty cafeteria with an untouched bowl of soup before him. Kuroko was staring at a spot on the floor beyond his table, so disconnected from reality that he only reacted when Akashi reached across the table to tap his forehead lightly.
"Akashi-kun," he said, sounding confused. "Why are you still here?"
"I should be asking you that," he retorted, gesturing at the bowl. "Finish your soup and we can leave."
Shaking his head vehemently, Kuroko said, "I'm not leaving Aomine-kun."
Red and gold eyes narrowed. "Daiki will not wake up any time soon, Tetsuya."
Kuroko was so startled at the sudden use of Aomine's first name that he nearly forgot to argue. He opened his mouth to protest, only to be interrupted with a raised hand.
"You will be of no use to him now, and insisting on staying here will only lead to a deterioration of your own health. It would not do to have you ill when he finally awakens, don't you think?"
He sometimes hated how Akashi always made sense. Ignoring the plastic spoon on his tray, he picked up the bowl and downed the lukewarm content of it. He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and followed Akashi.
xx
It was another two days of observation and plenty of prodding by the staff before he was allowed to remove his mask and unhook himself from most of the devices. Although he was no stranger to being examined, he'd felt thoroughly violated by the time the doctor cheerfully announced that his body seemed healthy enough to support most of his bodily functions.
It had also taken that long for his partner to visit him.
"You look well," Midorima said, the words sounding like an accusation. "I had imagined that you'd take a lot more time to recover."
"Can't keep a good man down," Aomine had tossed back, grin wide. He'd never admit it out loud, but he rather missed their usual bantering.
"Still," the green-eyed man settled in the chair by his bed. "That was a very close call."
Aomine resisted the urge to sigh. He'd been dreading this. The last time he'd gotten a bullet in his shoulder Midorima had all but beaten him over the head with a textbook. He'd lectured him for what felt like hours on why aggravating an armed man was a bad idea. Clearly, he hadn't taken anything away from that session.
"Can we skip the lecture?" He muttered, rueful.
Midorima raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall ever lecturing."
The bedridden man shot the other a baleful look. Sighing, he ran a hand through dark blue locks that had grown long and unruly in his time at the hospital. "What's the deal on Kou?"
Midorima's lips pursed ever so slightly, an indication that he was perhaps unhappy that Aomine was trying to change the topic. He didn't argue, though. "Your shot caught him in the shoulder. He's mostly healed now, and we have him in lockup pending a trial."
Aomine blinked. "What's taking so long?"
Midorima raised a shoulder in a shrug. "His case is big news in the media. Everyone wants to know what's going on."
"What's the point of the trial?" Aomine asked, frowning. "We know it was him."
"There was no concrete evidence before this. He'd only given us a confession about the time we checked him out of the hospital."
The dark-haired detective said nothing but raised an eyebrow in silent askance. Midorima nudged his glasses up, looking like he didn't want to pursue the subject any further.
"We had some help," he finally admitted. His expression grew more disgruntled, if that were possible. "It wasn't strictly legal, but it was off the record and the bottom line is that we can put him away for good now."
"Okay," Aomine murmured, wondering at the defensive tone to his speech and the way Midorima refused to look him in the eye. He had a bad feeling about the source of help that they received.
xx
"What's going on here?" Midorima interrupted the officers who had one hand on a half-drawn weapon. Both were tense, and one had an arm out toward the cause of the disruption. Midorima recognized the newcomer immediately, but kept his face carefully blank.
Red and gold eyes swivelled towards his face and studied him in silence. Unlike the other two officers, the man was completely at ease, his arms by his side and his face betraying nothing but slight boredom.
"You look like you're in charge here," Midorima jolted, the voice sending a chill up his spine. "Would you kindly tell your men to calm down? As you can see, I am unarmed."
That did not make him any less dangerous. Green eyes narrowed for a moment, contemplative, before he nodded at the pair of guards. Clearly reluctant, they returned their weapons to their holsters. Their stances were still rigid, and Midorima couldn't blame them for it. Akashi Seijuurou had a way of putting a man on high alert just by being in the vicinity.
"What do you want?" His voice was curt, almost snappish.
Akashi shot a pointed look at the officers. "Can we talk in private?"
One of the men began to protest, but was stopped by the hand that Midorima held up. With a gesture directed at Akashi for him to follow, he walked down the corridor into an empty room. He held the door open for the shorter man and locked it after him.
"I see that you're doing very well for yourself, Shintarou," the redhead said as he turned around to give the detective a crooked smirk. "Detective in four years, that must be a record of some sort, no?"
"It is, but I am not the only one to hold it," he replied, still curt. Before Akashi could say any more, he continued. "I presume that you're here for more than to catch up?"
Akashi tsked, shaking his head lightly. "Always so uptight. Is it wrong to see what my old friend has been up to?"
"We were classmates for a few years, I'd hardly say we were friends." The greenhead shot back.
"How unfortunate that you think that way," Akashi said, his smirk growing wider. "And here I thought that I'd come and give you a hand with your case, for old time's sake."
Midorima narrowed his eyes at the redhead's words. He knew for a fact that he was being fed bullshit. Akashi never did anything out of sentiment. The hospital was teeming with members of the police force, and to not only let himself be seen in such a place, but to attempt to approach Kou Shougo's room was a risky move. As one of the most powerful men in Japan, his movements were scrutinized closely, which was why he usually got someone else to do the dirty work for him. He'd had to gain something out of this, and it'd have to be something substantial if he was willing to come down personally and get his hands dirty.
"Why?" He asked at last, unable for once to come up with a coherent question. Akashi was a smart man, however, and by the way his lips tilted upward again, he understood what Midorima couldn't phrase. Midorima couldn't help himself, he added before Akashi could open his mouth, "And please spare me the crap about helping friends out."
Akashi raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "Your partner's crudeness seems to have rubbed off on you. I don't recall that you were so direct with your words."
Midorima couldn't help the surprised look that crossed his face. "You've met Aomine?"
"Really, Shintarou, surprised?" Akashi chuckled. "Don't tell me it never crossed your mind to look into the phone number that was on that pendrive."
"I was afraid of what I would find," the detective muttered. He passed a hand over his face. He'd known that the idiot had gone and done something stupid, but the sheer magnitude of his partner's idiocy rattled him. He shook his head and composed himself. It was not a good idea to be around Akashi unless he was in full possession of his wits. He needed to get himself together. "What does this have to do with Aomine?"
"Oh, it has everything to do with him." Akashi said, settling down on the single bed. "Now, tell me more about Kou Shougo."
xx
The room was dark and quiet, but for the sound of a steady beeping and the deep, even breaths of the sleeping occupant. He was exhausted – hardly a surprise considering he'd been shot – and had been drifting in and out of slumber for days. The bright, fluorescent colours that shone from the machines surrounding his bed were eerie, but not bright enough for anyone to see by. A little stretch of light slipped into the room momentarily from the door that was pushed open and shut soundlessly.
The newcomer blinked, hand still on the doorknob as he gave his eyes time to adjust to the gloom. Gradually, he began to make out the shapes in the room, his attention honing in on the snoozing form. He moved to the bedside and squinted at the machines there, looking for a particular one. When he found it, he fiddled with it carefully, drawing on memory to find the knobs and buttons that he needed. Satisfied, he made his way to the foot of the bed, and waited.
The dark-haired man came awake with a stuttering gasp, chest heaving like a drowning man who had managed to breach the surface. His mind was muddled with sleep and the drugs they had been feeding him and he groaned at the assault on his eyes when the room was suddenly bathed in light, squeezing his eyes shut against the burning sensation.
"Good evening, Shougo-san." He heard a pleasant voice say from somewhere near his feet. Painstakingly slow, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown, he cracked open his eyes. The hazy figure before him swam in his vision for a second before the haze cleared. He felt his heart stutter.
"You," he said, voice raspy from sleep and medication. And a little bit of fear. "How the hell did you get in here?"
The man clicked his tongue in reproach, cutting him off. "That's hardly the way you greet someone who wants to offer you assistance."
Kou narrowed his eyes at him. His glasses were on the side table, but he didn't need them to see the faint smile that hovered on the other's face. "What?"
"I heard that the police are having a hard time pinning those murders on you," he said. "It seems that all they can charge you with is attacking an officer."
The bedridden man remained silent, aware that anything he said could be used against him. This didn't seem to deter the other man, who walked to his side, looking completely relaxed. There was something about him that made Kou tense up, his eyes following the other warily.
"A charge like that will still get you a few years in jail, though, which I'm sure you're not enthusiastic about," he continued, looking down at the brown-eyed man with a slight tilt to his head. Still, Kou refused to say anything, returning the look with a stubborn set to his jaw. He hummed thoughtfully, turning his attention away to one of the machines. "I confess that it doesn't sit very well with me, either."
"You want them to pin me with the death sentence." Kou sneered, finally caving in to the urge to snap back. The close proximity of the other man was making him antsy and he reached for the small device by his bedside that would summon the nurse, only to have a hand stop him. The smile was still in place as he shook his head.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said softly, the words sounding more threatening than if he'd pressed a knife to Kou's neck. Reluctantly, Kou withdrew his hand but kept it near the button. "And to answer you, no. I actually came here to offer you bail."
This time his silence was due to shock, and he stared hard at the man, confusion and disbelief swimming in his head. His bail had been set at an absurd price. Hell, even if it weren't, his own parents didn't want him to walk free. "What?"
"You see," he began with a sigh, "Whatever the law could do to punish you would never suffice for me. Jail is, honestly, a joke, and the death sentence is much too … subdued for my liking."
Kou swallowed hard, a chill running down his spine at the glint that he saw in those cold eyes. They filled his vision as the man leaned closer, his voice dropping. "I need you to feel the emotions you instilled in those women you killed. I want you to feel hunted, to suspect every person you see on the street, to toss and turn at night because all you see is a face haunting you, and to never know when or where the next bullet will hit."
A cry erupted from him as a flash of hot pain shot through his body from the hand pressing firmly down on his healing wound. The pain didn't ease up, and fingers pulled his chin roughly back around so that he was forced to look into the merciless depths of a pair of icy blue eyes. Kuroko's voice grew quieter still, taking on a slightly manic tint. "I need to make you suffer, Shougo-san, just like you made me when you led me to your little showdown with Aomine-kun."
His chuckle sent terror racing through Kou as the grip on his chin tightened and his fingers dug deeper into the wound. "Did you really think the police were the ones you should be worried about?"
"Of course – " Abruptly, he released his hold and stood back, letting the terrified man take big gulps of air. His face slipped into that careful smile again, as though nothing had happened. " – I'm sure you'll need a few days to consider my offer. If you're interested, you can ask for me. I'll be in the hospital until Aomine-kun is discharged."
"There is, however, a condition," Kuroko paused as he walked away, and Kou unconsciously tensed up again. His breathing was still ragged as he waited for the pale-skinned man to speak. Kuroko turned to face him one last time, the hard spark back in his eyes. "If Aomine-kun doesn't walk out of this place on his own two feet, then neither will you."
xx
"Are you sure about this?" Midorima asked for the umpteenth time as he eyed Akashi's back. The redhead was stationed before a window, staring out at the greenery behind the hospital.
Akashi sighed, as he had been wont to do for the past fifteen minutes. "Yes, Shintarou, I am very sure. Tetsuya is perfectly capable of handling this."
"I don't know if it's a good idea to let him be alone in there with Kou," he said worriedly. If things went south, there was a chance that Kou could walk out of there as a free man. The responsibility rested solely on Midorima and it was understandably unsettling. "He seems to be a rather emotional guy."
"Make no mistake, Shintarou," Akashi said, coming to stand before the detective. He was over a head taller, and yet he felt tiny before the redhead. "Tetsuya may have kept his biological father's name out of respect for his memory, but he is as much an Akashi as I am."
He wanted to argue, mainly because such reasoning was flawed, but it was never productive to argue with Akashi. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and nodded wordlessly. He could only hope that Akashi was still as right about things as he had been in middle school.
xx
"What?" Aomine blinked, confused gaze flickering between the two men before him. "How?"
"Ah, well, you see, Tet-chan and I were neighbours back in the day before his mom remarried." Takao explained, and Aomine found that he completely understood that because apparently the world only consisted of people that either he or Kuroko knew and mutual friends. What he couldn't understand was why Takao had an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and was all but glued to Kuroko's hip and why Midorima was just standing in the corner looking resigned. He had a bad feeling about this.
"How close were you two?" He asked, because there was a streak of masochism that seemed to have developed around the time he met Kuroko.
Takao's face scrunched up in thought but Kuroko didn't hesitate. "Kazunari-kun was my first boyfriend."
They were on a first name basis. Aomine wanted snatch Kuroko away and growl at the black-haired man. He wanted to tell him to fuck off and stop using Kuroko's first name so casually because it wasn't his bloody right, it was supposed to be boyfriend-exclusive and Kuroko hadn't even gotten around to calling him Daiki yet and –
"That's nice," he said weakly, not able to stop the grimace. "What are the odds, huh?"
"Yeah," Takao quipped, either oblivious to the evil way Aomine was eyeing the arm slung around Kuroko's shoulders or purposefully ignoring it. His arm tightened, pulling the pale man closer to his side. The latter, then. "I can't believe you've changed so much, Tet-chan!"
"You shouldn't be surprised," Kuroko replied in that monotonous way that made it impossible for Aomine to figure out what he was thinking. "I sent you pictures."
Biting the insides of his cheek so that he wouldn't ask about the pictures, he threw a glance over at his silent partner who looked back, stony-faced. So he was annoyed too.
Good. The bastard deserved it for not warning him beforehand.
"They hardly do you justice," Takao retorted. His gaze raked over Kuroko's body in a way that made the other two men tense up. "What kind of witchcraft did you use?"
"Puberty," Kuroko responded flatly. "I was a late bloomer."
"No kidding," Takao murmured. He turned to Aomine with a grin. "Would you believe me if I told you that this incredibly hot man used to be practically invisible?"
Aomine eyed the trim, lean lines of the said man. There was a hint of delicateness about him, but he knew Kuroko's body well enough to know that he'd been active in sports at some point in his life. And he was anything but invisible in his favourite pair of skin-tight leather pants."Really?"
"Yeah, he blended into the walls so well that when he spoke, people would think there was a ghost in the room." Takao sniggered, patting Kuroko affectionately on the shoulder. "I never would have seen this coming."
xx
It was dark outside when he finally roused from his slumber. There was a small light on at the entry-way that cast a feeble yellow glow across the room. Aomine still felt exhausted; Momoi and Kise had dropped by shortly after Takao and Midorima. He'd fallen asleep as soon as the nurse had come in and ordered everyone out. He remained still, willing himself to go back to sleep, but already beginning to realize that it was impossible as his brain felt sufficiently rested even if his body was protesting any movement.
"Has Midorima-kun ever gotten hurt?" He heard Kuroko's soft voice from across the room. Before he could answer, though, there was a second voice.
"He's never been shot, if that's what you're asking," Takao replied, just as quietly. "But there was once he had to jump out of a second-storey window of a house on fire and broke his arm."
Silence settled in again, broken only by the beeping of the monitor.
"Does it hurt?" Kuroko asked, eyes on the bedridden man.
Takao understood what he was really asking, "Yes. Every day."
Kuroko's next question made Aomine's heart clench. "Do the nightmares ever stop?"
Takao seemed to give it some thought before he responded, and Aomine had never heard the man sound so serious before. "Not really, but they don't happen as frequently after some time."
Haunted eyes turned to meet warm, sympathetic ones. They may have drifted apart over the years, but they now had something new that bonded them together, something that very few would ever be capable of understanding completely. Takao reached out and squeezed Kuroko's hand, silently conveying everything that words could not express.
"Why do you stay?" Kuroko was nearly unaware that he'd asked the question.
Takao gave him a crooked grin, understanding and rueful. "Why do you?"
Blue eyes returned to the man on the bed. Aomine nearly forgot to breathe in the moments before Kuroko answered, the quiet conviction that coloured his tone making Aomine want to cry in relief.
"Because it's so much better than leaving."