Breaking Point

Disclaimer: I own nothing. And I'm pretty sure I'm not making any monetary profit off of this.

Summary: Why do they matter? What are they to you? … It's to the point where you just want to point at the stars and say, 'Look. Give me a break will ya? I'm doing my best, got it?' To the point where you just want to shut down and die?"

I don't know what's wrong with me. Somehow this hit me over the head with a sledgehammer and won't stop until I got over a thousand words written in 20 minutes. And I have 15 stories to write/update for. My muse, what are you doing to me?

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"Have you ever gotten to the point where you just had enough? Where all you have gotten going for you is yourself? All that matters taste like ashes in your mouth. It's to the point where you just want to point at the stars and say, 'Look. Give me a break will ya? I'm doing my best, got it?' Everyone will get to this point in life sooner or later. It might creep up on them, whisper in their ears little soothes of hesitance and fear. It might come as a wave, tumbling over them until they can't tell left from right, up from down." He paused, breathing in deeply before continuing softly.

"But when this happens, you have to stop and think. Why do they matter? What are they to you? Do you have to revolve your whole life around them, to the point where you lose sight of yourself? To the point where you just want to shut down and die?" His voice gradually got louder and louder, until he was nearly shouting.

"Please, if not for yourself them for me. I want you around. No - I NEED you around." He stuttered the last bit, closing in on himself as he realized what he has been saying.

"You speak as if you know what you are talking about," the other whispered, the words being carried off in the wind.

"I-" he didn't know what to say. He didn't realize that in comforting him, he was also revealing to him what he never told anyone.

"You have, haven't you," the other merely commented. He looked down, sighing. Brushing the dirt off his pants, he got up from his perch on the ground. "Look, thanks for the talk, but I've got to go." He made his way past the blonde, but stopped as a hand grasped his wrist, yanking his arm near out of his socket from the force.

"No, not until you -" he paused, uncertain of what to say. "Not until I see," he scoffed a little, a slight laugh at himself as he was at a lost for words. "Not until you are yourself again." The words escaped his mouth before he realized what happened.

"You…" the tanned male growled, glaring into dark golden eyes. "Look here, Kise, I don't know what you are getting at, but there is NOTHING wrong with me." Aomine yanked his hand back out of the blonde's grip, storming his way out of the secluded park he had found himself in.

Kise was left standing alone, arm still outstretched, as he watched the dark blue haired teen get further and further away from him. He found himself grasping his chest, the beating heart inside him pulsing quicker, and more painful by the minute. "Why do you have to torment yourself like this? Why do you hate yourself so much, why do you try to change yourself for others, when I like you just the way you are now?"

He looked up at the grey overcast sky, the faint rays of sunlight barely peeking out past the dense clouds. He could feel the humidity wrapping around him, shivering a little as a cold breeze swept through him. "Winter cup," the words felt heavy, foreboding. "It's been a year since Kurokocchi and Kagamicchi won…" he whispered out, hunching in on himself, as if trying to brace his body against the cold. Even snuggled up in a thick dark blue jacket and muted silver scarf, hands now firmly tucked into his pockets, he felt as if he has been dunked with a bucket of ice.

"Why…" Kise started, the sound of his voice barely being heard over the small spattering of rain that spluttered down from the sky. "Why can't you play for fun, now? Why must you win?" he said, eyes looking out as he saw the slowly departing figure, a mere black dot in the horizons, began to fade away like mist. "I thought Kurokocchi changed everything. But now, it's even worse."

"Armageddon. An all-out battle even worse than last year. We all tasted defeat, but instead of loving the sport again, we're becoming obsessed. We need to win, time and time again, if only to prove that no, we aren't nothing. All that makes us who we are, all that defines us so perfectly, has not given up on us."

"Akashi with his family, the expectations and responsibilities baring down on him," Kise pictured the weary look from crimson eyes, those haunted orbs staring at him from a tired teen.

"Midorima, as if his god had given up on him, the bandages around his fingers becoming frayed as he works himself to exhaustion." Green eyes looked blank, looking up at the sky as if to as 'Why?'

"Murasakibara, lethargic and as if nothing changed. But something innocent in that man-child broke, the utter ruthlessness in his play increasing as if he can't forgive himself for never applying himself." Purple hair, stringy and damp, covered focused purple eyes. "But he shouldn't have to, he never played basketball for fun in the first place. And now, he might never because he won't let himself play for the sake of playing, for himself to just enjoy it. His team won't allow it. The zone, what a curse."

"Kuroko, what have you done? What have you unleashed on us? We have never known anything beyond this escape, and now it has become a steel prison, wrought with iron bars and poisoned hopes and dreams. What we have once lost, may never be gained back, because now by driving ourselves to rectify our losses, we have become consumed with something much worse."

"Why must it feel like our freedom is getting further and further away from us, as if no, you had your chance years ago, now is not the time to beg and plead for a second one," Kise stood there, in the drizzling rain. It was like the heavens were crying for them, he remarked. "Why does the sport that we once felt fire for, that we felt turn into ice, and now feels as if we have become entombed in our own regrets and desperation? Why does it feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me, as if it is a struggle to immerse myself back into that mindset, as if my body is rebelling against me? Why do I feel so… so empty inside?"

In that moment, he felt himself shiver violently. He felt more than heard the slight creaking and groaning, that little crack in his soul as tears steadily fell down his face. Rainwater mixed with salt as he let the downpour wash over him.

"Why…why can't you just let us be?"

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Edit: 1/19/15 Minor Grammar Errors