So. Here we are. The end.

When We Are Men

"Kuroko."

On the rooftop, the wind was cold and fresh against Akashi's face. Small snowflakes had formed in his delicate, carefully styled hair. His careful, rosebud lips were parted with a painful longing. Here he was; the boy he had loved since early beginnings; since first meeting, when he had taught him his style. Kuroko hadn't noticed him, only respected him as a leader, who was always in control.

But now? His control had almost left him. What was this feeling? This helplessness, this feeling of a knife twisting in his heart, this feeling of falling, falling, falling. It was the same feeling he had been plagued with since he met Tetsuya. How had it lasted so long? The careful training, the patient teaching - had he noticed?

He'd known. For years, since their graduation, when Akashi had whispered fruitful words into Kuroko's ear. Akashi had hoped that he would come. So much that he could not sleep, and that his butler had taken in food tray away, untouched. Only when his small, carefully handwritten reply, had he been able to move. The fear of rejection and failure had plagued him.

But here he was.

Alone.

"Akashi."

"Seijuro, please." His voice was shaky.

"Call me Tetsuya, then." The small smile that Akashi loved so much slid across his face, his eyes the colour of the calm ocean in the gentle breeze. Then Kuroko turned his head, and the smile slid off his face.

"Tetsuya..."

Kuroko looked back at him and took a step closer, closing the gap only slightly.

"Seijuro."

This time it was teasing.

"Again," Akashi whispered, his words falling from his lips like petals from a rose.

"Seijuro."

He was smiling as he said it, Akashi was sure. He gasped.

"And again."

This time his voice was assertive, calm. He was in control, but his heart was still pounding like a steady drum. Akashi walked three hesitant, delicate, careful steps towards the blue haired boy that had captured his heart.

"Seijuro."

It wasn't teasing. It wasn't light; it was serious. He could see Kuroko's muscles tense underneath his shirt. That was one thing; the shirt definitely had to go. As well as every other item of clothing he was wearing.

"Tetsuya...do you...I mean, did you...?"

The question fell from his lips. He hadn't meant it to.

Kuroko shifted on his feet. Silence flooded over the roof; it drifted to the sky, dwelling in the stars that were sprinkled on the night sky. Somewhere, downstairs, the loud music that had been playing faded.

Akashi waited. Had his hopes been for nothing? When Kuroko did not reply, realisation shattered on the tiles of the roof. The cold in the wind became ice; the very stars seemed to dim in the sky, and the night get darker.

He turned; the very roof seemed to beckon him to jump; the fall would not be far, the death would be quick, the pain only temporary.

"Seijuro? I -"

"-don't love you. I know."

The weight was heavy upon his shoulders.

"No, you idiot. This is hard for me too."

Unintentionally, Akashi looked, Kuroko's words having double meaning.

Akashi felt confused - a sensation he rarely experienced.

"Fuck you," he said, annoyed at his change in feelings.

"Please do," Kuroko murmured, and he glanced upwards at Akashi.

Akashi froze. His hand moved out to touch, gently touch Kuroko's hand. His fingers worked up his arm, to his shoulder, and then carefully, carefully, along his delicate jawline, up to his hair, which he stroked with loving, tentative fingers, and then down to the nape of his neck, then to the beautiful lips which he longed to kiss. Kuroko's hand touched his, and Akashi's hand went down to his waist. Then their lips locked, their breath sweet on each other's faces, with the passion of new love but with the understanding of old. The stars shone brighter, and everything else was still and quiet, frozen in the moment of a passionate, locked embrace.

Then the embrace broke, and Akashi almost fainted.

"What I was going to say, before you started walking away," Kuroko whispered, his tongue tracing the outline of Akashi's lips, then his fingers dancing on Akashi, making their way lower and lower until - Damn.

That felt good.

"I was saying that I saw Kiyoshi and Hyuuga in the laundry room. Did you know that Kiyoshi is huge? I mean, wow - "

"Don't need to know, Tetsuya," Akashi whispered in his ear, "but I'm fairly sure I'm bigger than him."

Kuroko chuckled. "And then Aomine and Kagami - I know you can see them, they're really good at being obvious."

Akashi grimaced.

Kuroko leaned in, his lips brushing the nape of Akashi's neck as he traced his delicate skin with a careful tongue. When he was satisfied, he whispered gently into Akashi's ear: "I was going to ask if we could do the same thing."

Akashi froze.

Kuroko smirked into Akashi's shoulder. "Don't tell me you're a virgin. Oh, this is just too good."

Akashi blushed up the roots of his carefully done-up hair. "Aren't you?"

"Taiga was my first. I couldn't wait forever for you to make your move, you know."

"I'll kill the bastard," Akashi murmured, feeling like he had regained his footing.

"Why?"

Akashi's finger found Kuroko's collarbone. He was the teasing one now. Delicately he found his lovers shirt and grabbed it, ripping it carelessly down the middle.

"Well," Akashi said gently, feeling Kuroko become aroused with every seductive word, "he took something of mine."

"Yes," Tetsuya moaned, "yes. I am yours."

Finally.

Hours later, the sun climbed gently over the buildings and tree tops to embrace the dark sky. The stars slowly vanished into the frosty autumn morning. From the laundry room, where Kiyoshi and Hyuuga did not stir from their peaceful slumber; with their arms wrapped around each other, even in sleep; to the cold outdoors, where Aomine and Kagami sat in silence, watching the sunrise from the garden bench they had made love on, their fingertips brushing one another in gentle peace; to the rooftop of the house, where Akashi watched over his lover in quiet thought, where Kuroko dreamt of the love he had made under the stars. They left there, that day, each with their own lover, to set forth and accept who they were.

Boys they were no more; men they had become.

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