A/N: SO after who knows how long now, an update! Incredibly sorry for the long wait-real life likes to kick my writer ass around trying to make me all responsible-but here's a sort of long update to make up for it! Thank you to those who are still sticking by!
cynthiacyvon: thank you so much! You got a lot of things about Haizaki right ;; I'm really happy you like my writing, thank you!
Kurogamine-The Light Shadow: aaaa thank you! sorry for the cliffhanger hehe (and the long wait oops), here's a new chapter! Hopefully I'll be able to tell the whole story regularly so I don't have to leave you all with cliffhangers and long waits ;;;
theOtakuMageofAwesomeness: aaaAAAA thank you so much for your review! I'm so glad you like all those little bits and dialogue and actions! And yES YAY FOR HONESTY I just want people to be honest about what they think and save everyone a lot of pain (although there's still...quite a bit...of pain...hahaha). Can't blame you for lowkey shipping HaiKise here because I kind of ship them myself OOPS ;; I really love the dynamics and I'm glad I'm getting them across nicely, and that you like them! And I'm really happy you like the way I write, especially the humor akdjghs I'm not very confident in my writing but your comments really give me that small boost. sORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Forbidden Void: omg thank you so much that really means a lot! Sorry for the long wait!
Guest (both Guests): THANK YOU you're too kind /
Noirceur602: aaa thank you! I'm really glad you like this!
#
"What the hell are you doing out here?"
Kise stilled, and for the first time since going outside, the cold he felt seemed to crack. He took a deep breath, a small puff of mist floating in front of his mouth as he pulled it into a smile.
"Aominecchi," he said, the fingers over his bent knee clenching just slightly. Kise smiled up at Aomine, who approached him with a scowl and cold-flushed cheeks. "I'd ask you the same thing."
Aomine's lips pulled lower. "Why are you out here?" he said, pointedly looking down at where Kise was seated on the ground, isolated and cold.
Kise sighed, his smile dropping. "Just wanted some time alone." He looked at Aomine with what he hoped was an okay enough face, but in all honesty, he was tired.
Aomine continued to frown down at him, shifting on his heels carefully. Kise tried to tug the corners of his lips up, even just a little, and hoped that Aomine would just turn around and leave. Kise didn't want Aomine to stand there in front of him, looking at him and seeing his weak, pathetic state. He didn't want to disappoint Aomine any more than he already had. He was tired.
If Aomine would just stop looking at him, Kise could breathe. If Aomine just walked away, Kise would be able to relax, to just watch Aomine's back fade away into the distance like he'd always done, and then Kise would just stay there and be alone.
But Aomine was still there, standing so tall above Kise, his eyes sharp and dark like the sky. Kise crinkled his mouth into something that he was pretty sure felt like a smile, and tilted his head just a little to the side. "Aah, is Aominecchi here to gloat? Please no, I don't think my poor fragile heart can take it."
Aomine snorted, expression falling into a series of flat lines as he grumbled, "'Poor fragile heart' my ass—says the guy who sent Sakurai to the bench and nearly fouled our captain out."
Kise blinked at him, and he couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled out of his chest, despite everything. "Would have been great if he did foul out," he sighed, leaning his head back on the wall behind him.
Aomine grunted, shifting his weight to his other foot. "Anyway, your legs—how do they feel?"
"They're fine," Kise said immediately, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at Aomine from under his lashes. "Of course I'm tired, but I should be okay if I just rest here for a bit."
"Bullshit," Aomine snapped, taking another step closer to Kise. "You can't stand up, can you? My legs are killing me right now—you're probably no better."
Kise visibly stiffened, his fists tightening and his breath hitching, cold going still in his body. He narrowed his eyes at Aomine, then sighed, defeated. "Fine, you're right," Kise leaned back and brought his eyes up to the sky, and he supposed the stars were beautiful that night but they all felt like little pinpricks of mocking. "I can't move them." He hadn't been able to stand ever since collapsing on the ground where he sat—ever since he'd walked away from his team, waving off their concerned looks with a smile, forcing his legs to squeeze out whatever they had left to step outside. And Kise thought he'd gotten used to the pain by the time he reached the exit, but as if the lingering afterglow of the game—of basketball—somehow gave him strength and energy, when he stepped out into the callous cold, it didn't take long for his legs to give up.
(No, Kise thought. It wasn't his legs that gave up—it was him. He gave up bearing the pain, he gave up walking, he gave up standing. He lost to that stupid pain in his legs, he lost to the feeling of uselessness and defeat crushing his chest.
He lost.)
(But Kise was only proud of himself for one thing: that he didn't cry. He didn't cry when they lost. He didn't cry when his teammates yelled at him for apologizing to them. He didn't cry when everyone applauded them for a good game, a close game.
He didn't cry when Aomine shook his hand.
None of his tears came when the pain had surged like a scalding fire when everything had ended. He didn't cry when he could barely hold himself together, could barely stand—and he wasn't crying out there, in the cold, as his legs refused to listen to him.
Kise won't cry.)
(He can't.)
It was quiet for a few moments, and Kise started feeling the cold start to constrict him all over again, the quiet try to suffocate him. He slid his eyes back down to look at Aomine, and he knew his face was pathetic. Pitiful. A disappointment.
Aomine shifted his weight on his heels again, and it was cold and dark outside but he seemed just as warm and dazzling to Kise, like a muted sun, amazing as always, and undeniably strong. Kise brought his eyes back down, as if blinded by that sun, and bit his lip to keep from speaking—to keep from telling Aomine to leave, just leave please. He didn't want him to just stand there, looking at him. He'd already admitted to being pathetically unable to walk, much less stand. He wanted to just snap at him, and tell him to just go.
But he couldn't.
It was after a few moments that Aomine moved, the rustle of his clothes so sharp against Kise's ears, as if they were judging him, and he wished Aomine was leaving—he knew he would; after all, Kise wasn't worth waiting for. He wasn't worth his time.
(He never was.)
But then a bag fell on his lap, bulky with clothes and shoes and black like Aomine's jersey. Kise reflexively held it, confused, and looked up at Aomine with questioning eyes.
"Carry my bag."
Kise blinked once, twice. Aomine blinked back, all seriousness and nonchalance. "What," Kise said stupidly, hands unmoving against Aomine's bag.
"Carry my bag."
Kise's brows knotted, thoroughly stumped. In front of him, Aomine bent his legs a few times, squatting once, twice, thrice, then rolled his shoulders back with a nod.
"Should be alright," Aomine muttered, and then strode forward to Kise.
"What." Kise repeated, watching Aomine stand right at his feet. "Am I being bullied."
Aomine snorted, leveling Kise with a pointedly straight face. He lowered himself into a half-squat with one knee on the ground, then reached over and slung his bag's strap over Kise's head. "I'll carry you," Aomine said simply. "So carry my bag."
"Ha?" Kise blinked stupidly, watching as Aomine turned his back to Kise.
"Get on my back," he said over his shoulder.
"What," Kise's said, brows high and bewildered. "What the heck—no."
"You can't fucking stand up, Kise," Aomine shot, turning slightly to glare at Kise. "Don't be stubborn and just get on my back."
"I said no," Kise whined, shoulders tightening as he retreated all of an inch backwards into the wall he was leaning on. "It's cold, and you're tired too—don't bother with me."
Aomine grumbled, turning some more to face Kise and shoot him a stern and exasperated stare. "So how are you planning on getting home? Is someone gonna pick you up?"
Kise grimaced. "Not really…"
"You think you can make it past two blocks in that state?"
"I just need some rest—"
"Yeah, no," Aomine snapped. "It's late and you obviously can't walk. Get on my fucking back."
Kise's brows knotted, heat bubbling in his stomach and spurring him into disgruntled movement. "It's really not as bad as you think, Aominecchi—"
"It's not as trivial as you think either," Aomine interrupted. "Look, you don't want to go to the hospital, right?"—Kise's head snapped up in surprise—Aomine continued, "And you're not fucking spending the night out here. So get on my goddamn back or I will call your damn teammates."
Kise reeled back, eyes narrowing. "You don't know their numbers."
"But Satsuki does," Aomine retorted. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and let his thumb hover above the screen. "So you'd rather I call them?"
Kise gritted his teeth, grunting. "Dammit Aominecchi," he scowled, fists tightening against the strap of Aomine's back around his shoulders. "Why are you even doing this?"
Aomine ran a hand through his hair, sighing exasperatedly. "Look, I'm too tired to pretend that I don't give a shit about you," he growled. "Besides—" Aomine looked straight at Kise, albeit a little sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his neck. "—we were teammates once."
Kise's eyebrows climbed up, something in his throat catching and his heartbeat faltering. His fingers flexed against the strap of Aomine's bag, and Kise exhaled a weak, shaky breath, unable to look away from those piercing blue eyes, deep and strong like the ocean at night, easily reflecting the sky and its vastly stretching breadth. Suddenly, Kise saw a familiar Aomine—the teammate he once had, the friend he spent countless nights playing one-on-ones with; the blazing sun that lit the fire in him and brought him to the sport he now loved. To the sport that hurt him as much as it made him feel alive. And at the same time, it was the current Aomine: the endlessly amazing player who only seemed brighter and fiercer as the years went by. It was the Aomine that Kise decided to stop admiring, and the same Aomine that was always so far away. So out of reach, no matter what Kise did. No matter how much Kise wanted to defeat him, to give him a game that would make Aomine proud, a game that would make him happy—Kise just couldn't. He'd always disappoint. Always be so far away.
But that acknowledgement, that Aomine still valued the past that they once shared—it kept Kise together. It made him feel like he still had some value, like he had somehow been just a little bit a part of Aomine's life as he'd always wanted to be. Just a little bit of a significance compared to the others who so stupidly gave up when Aomine defeated them. (What did you expect? Kise thought. It's Aominecchi. He wouldn't lose. Not to you.
Not to anyone.)
That Aomine was there, waiting for him, looking at him—it was enough. It gripped at Kise's heart and shook the cold that had encased him, coursing warmth swelling through his chest and down his arms. And Kise sighed, his expression weakening, loosening up into a defeated smile, his eyes unable to look away from Aomine's as if they were anchored to them. "Fine," Kise said. "Okay."
Aomine huffed, stuffing his phone back into his pocket and shifting to turn around. Kise sighed, running his hands through his hair, and tried to will his legs to move. He sucked in a breath when all he got was trembling heaviness and throbbing pain, as if his legs were made of lead and were being held down by a vice grip. He sighed again and looked forward, seeing Aomine's broad back turned to him, waiting.
(I'm not worth it.)
Kise adjusted his and Aomine's bags to hang over his back, and Aomine inched closer. "Spread your legs," Aomine said.
"Pervert!" Kise scoffed, a defeated corner of his lips quirking just a little bit higher.
"I'll hit you."
"So violent," Kise chided, holding his breath as he managed to at least move his legs outwards a little. "I can't believe Erominecchi is bullying me."
Kise yelped when Aomine brought a chop down on Kise's head, hands immediately flying up to his hair. "Mean, Aominecchi! Mean!"
Aomine stuck his hand under Kise's and ruffled his hair, and Kise sputtered and flailed but everything started to feel warm again. "Shut up and let's go," Aomine snorted, turning back around and scooting closer.
"Okay, okay," Kise huffed, heaving his back off of the wall and putting his hands on Aomine's shoulders. He leaned forward, sliding his arm around Aomine's neck, and Aomine moved to allow Kise to let his weight fall over Aomine's back, both of them feeling warm from the contact.
Aomine hooked his hands under Kise's knees and tugged. Kise sucked in a breath at the pain that shot up his legs, but continued to stand as well as he could with Aomine helping him.
"Does it hurt?" Aomine asked.
Kise bit his lip against a wince. "Yeah, but I'm good."
Aomine grunted in response, leaning forward and pulling Kise's legs up around him. In one swift movement, Aomine stood up, bearing Kise's full weight as Kise instinctively brought his arms around Aomine, hugging tight as he was lifted off of the ground.
Aomine huffed, staggering forward a few steps, then straightened. "Okay?"
Kise hummed, nodding, and Aomine tightened his grip around Kise's legs and started to walk.
There were barely any people around, the chilly air wafting around them like an invisible sea. Puffs of mist faded in and out of every breath they took as it got colder, and the breadth of Aomine's back gave Kise a tender warmth that seemed to thaw his earlier misery.
"You're shivering," Aomine said, and if Kise wasn't so close and knew Aomine as much as he did, he wouldn't think that Aomine was tired at all from the game—but he was walking slowly, steps heavy and almost dragging, and Kise knew that Aomine was in pain and he wanted to tell him to stop but he couldn't.
"I'm fine," Kise mumbled, ducking his head. "I'm okay." (If he repeated it enough, maybe he would be.)
Aomine was quiet, content with the warmth that Kise shared. He kept his eyes forward, leaning his head just a little closer to Kise's. Almost as if being pulled in, Kise pressed his head into Aomine's shoulder, lightly bumping the side of Aomine's head with his own.
Aomine exhaled, relaxing into Kise's warmth. They fell into a comfortable silence, nothing but Aomine's steps and their breathing humming into the air. It was as if they hadn't just practically waged war on the court against each other, in a game that would soon be known as one of the fiercest, most electrifying and intense matches in Winter Cup history. It was just the two of them, just old teammates, friends. It was like being home.
Kise's disconsolate thoughts seemed to have been pushed into a corner, overshadowed by the feeling of Aomine's back against Kise's chest, the steady rise and fall of his breaths like the gentle laps of the sea's waves. Kise was sure he was going to start getting lost in his dark and chaotic thoughts, but all he felt was a steady heaviness in his chest, like a glass filled to the brim, just barely keeping everything in. All he felt was the definite warmth of Aomine—of his actions, seemingly thawing the icy cold that seeped under Kise's skin.
Kise bit his lip. He didn't want to be so useless, so helpless, least of all with Aomine. He was supposed to be strong, the unwavering ace. He was supposed to finally win against Aomine, but he didn't and he couldn't stand up, and he was being carried by the ace who defeated him.
But instead of feeling even worse, it was okay. Being with Aomine like this, like they were teammates again—like they were friends again—it was okay.
Kise's fists clenched, and he closed his eyes. He really was shaking—from the cold or from something else, Kise wasn't sure—and Aomine seemed to notice, pressing his arms closer, gripping the back of his knees more firmly. He let Kise hug him just a little bit tighter, both of them keeping each other warm. Kise kept his eyes screwed shut, burying his head into Aomine's shoulder, and breathed.
"Hey," Aomine said quietly.
Kise just barely shifted his head in acknowledgement. Aomine's steps slowed. "The game a while ago," Aomine continued.
Even against the shivering, Kise stiffened, faltering.
Aomine exhaled, and his voice was sincere when he said, "It was fun."
Kise didn't say anything, only a shaky breath escaping his lips. Aomine continued to walk, keeping Kise close, and if he felt the tears that slid down Kise's cheek and onto his shoulder, he didn't mention it.
#
It was pleasantly warm, the kind of warm that was like snuggling under a thick blanket during a cold rainy day, and the curtains filtered a gentle light through the windows, everything feeling much like a perfect morning—
—at least, if Kise's head wasn't throbbing like a bitch.
Kise woke up to a more or less wonderful day, but his head felt like it had been tied to a rock and thrown into the bottom of the ocean, and he groaned when his world spun at the slightest movement.
Gingerly, Kise heaved himself up, a hand over his face as he tried to settle his spinning head. It took him a few moments to muffle the pain throbbing in his skull, and he slowly blinked his eyes open with a sigh.
Without much thought, Kise looked around his room, taking comfort in the gentle way the light streamed through his windows and the soft shadows blanketing him. He took a deep breath, trying to blink his eyes more awake, and relished in the nice warmth that laid over his stomach. Kise shifted a little, looking down, and felt the brush of something other than his sheets against his skin, and then—
Kise's mind stalled. His eyes snapped awake when he noticed that he wasn't wearing clothes. His vision caught sight of the said clothes haphazardly flung in the general area of the bed and the ground beside it, and against the fair skin of his stomach, was tan.
Kise sucked in a breath, barely muffling the scream that threatened to tumble out of his mouth, and he went rigid with a start as he looked at how Aomine's arm was wrapped around his waist, his similarly bare torso sticking out from under the sheets as Aomine quietly slept beside him.
Kise's thoughts had all but turned into a mantra of what the fuck what the fuck—and his heart thrashed in his chest, brain unable to process much apart from Aomine lying beside him, more or less naked, with an arm loosely laid over Kise's stomach. Kise felt frozen under that warm touch, his mind suddenly at war with whether he had to get the fuck away or feel comforted about the way Aomine holding him like that felt strangely nice.
He swallowed, tense all over, and tried to calm down, taking a deep, shaky breath. Kise thought back—they had dinner, Aomine was in black, they talked and laughed a lot, and the meat was good, the wine was good and—
"Fuck," Kise cursed under his breath. He got drunk. He went and drank way too much alcohol. Their conversations were just too engrossing and light that Kise had just gone and kept drinking. And Aomine definitely had higher tolerance for alcohol than Kise did, and Kise was definitely not reliable at all when he was drunk—he could not trust himself in that state, especially with someone he could already barely hide anything from.
Kise ran his hands through his hair, breaths shaky and unsteady as he stayed hyper-aware of Aomine sleeping next to him and the arm still over his waist. Kise tried to rack his brain, tried to remember—
What the fuck happened last night?
They had gone through so much wine, so much conversations, and Kise barely remembered what he told Aomine, but the image of Aomine's smile, when he drank or when his brows furrowed when he laughed—they were almost crystal clear in Kise's memory, almost glowing—and Kise remembered the way Aomine pulled his lips around a bite of meat, or the way he pressed them against the edge of his glass as he drank, thinking that maybe those lips were soft, that maybe they tasted of wine.
Kise remembered getting flung around in the car (Ah, Tanaka-san was driving), and feeling like he was floating, except with a nice warmth snug against his body. And he hugged that warmth close, recognized Aomine's scent, the soft tufts of his short hair, and the strength in his hands tucked under Kise's knees.
Then Kise was in his room, he had fallen somewhere and it felt like he was both lighter than air and sinking underwater, under a calm lulling deep. Aomine's hand was in Kise's hair, fingers running through the soft locks in a way that reminded Kise of how his sister would do it, in that way that made him feel at home. And Kise remembered Aomine's lips again, curving into a lazy smile, teeth flashing when he laughed, and Kise had wondered how those lips might feel like, if they were as soft as they looked, or if they still tasted like wine—
"It's because I love Aominecchi."
All at once, Kise's heart dropped down to his feet and whiplashed back up his chest, bringing up a torrent of blood rushing to his face at the memory of Aomine's face getting close—no, Kise had pulled him close—and the sweet taste of lips. Kise's heart started to race, loud and panicked, as the memories attacked him in a flurry of half-indistinct fragments: the press of lips, the shift of the bed, Kise's hands fisted in a black shirt, fingers against navy blue hair; Aomine's hand behind his neck, in his hair, electric sparks coursing through Kise's skin—
Suddenly, Aomine stirred, edging closer and gripping Kise's waist tighter. Kise gasped, tensing, and held his breath for a few moments as Aomine softly pressed his hand into Kise's side, hugging him warmly. When Aomine relaxed, Kise exhaled, unable to move for almost a whole minute until he forced his body to tentatively squirm away from Aomine's hold.
Nervously, Kise brought his hands down to Aomine's arm, sliding a hand under his palm as gently as he could. Kise's heart stuttered, feeling the pleasant warmth of Aomine's hand against his, and the way he could feel Aomine breathing deep and even beside him. Kise turned to properly look at Aomine for the first time since almost getting a panic attack, and stared.
The light was touching Aomine's face in the softest of ways, casting gentle shadows against the curves and edges of his features. He was sound asleep, breaths coming and going like soft morning waves, and he had the most peaceful, calm expression, everything about him relaxed and at home.
Before he'd realized it, Kise's racing heart had slowed, and his breathing had evened out, matching the steady rise and fall of Aomine's chest. All of a sudden, Kise felt calmed, just watching Aomine, and despite everything, he felt that it was okay. Aomine sleeping there, with his arm around him, his hand against Kise's—it was all okay.
Kise sighed. He continued to stare at Aomine's sleeping face, the way he was curled on his side, the way his hand was tucked under the pillow. And Kise felt his breath stutter when Aomine's fingers curled inwards, wrapping around Kise's hand, and Kise felt his face start to heat up all over again, but he didn't feel like moving away.
He didn't know how long he just sat there watching Aomine sleep, their hands loosely linked, and Kise didn't realize when he'd brought his other hand to stroke Aomine's head, running his palm against those short tufts of dark blue. Kise felt warm, and he bit his lip as his heart seemed to swell, but then he startled with a jolt when he heard a door open from outside his bedroom.
The movement jerked Aomine, but Kise could barely notice him start to wake when he practically stumbled off his bed, scrambling for the nearest pair of sweats he could find. He felt his heart start to ricochet all over his ribcage, faltering for a moment when he heard Aomine grumbling against the pillows. He spun his head around to check, immediately regretting it when a wave of dizziness and throbbing pain hit his head. Kise staggered, starting to panic again as Aomine gradually stirred awake, and he bumbled noisily as he put some pants over his boxers.
"Ryouta?" came Haizaki's voice from outside.
Kise groaned, bracing a hand on the edge of his bed in an effort to allay his returning headache. "Shougo?" he called weakly, shooting a glance at Aomine, who was definitely starting to wake up. All over again Kise felt his stomach do backflips, everything and the headache effectively rendering him confused and decidedly screwed.
"You awake?" he heard Haizaki say, uncertain, probably about a few feet from the bedroom door. "Is anyone else in there?"
Kise bit his lip. Haizaki probably saw Aomine's shoes by the entrance, seeing as how only Kise's shoes were in his room. "…yes?" he answered with a grimace.
There was a pause before Haizaki's voice sounded, a step or two closer. "Is it Daiki?"
Kise put his hands on his face. "…yes?"
A longer pause. Kise half hoped that Haizaki decided to leave, but he also wanted to explain, except he didn't know what to explain—he wasn't even sure what the hell happened. And with what he remembered, or at least he thought he remembered, Kise wasn't too keen on sharing with Haizaki either.
But then there was a bit of shuffling, and Haizaki spoke again, just a little bit louder. "Are you decent?"
Kise flushed, jumping to his feet. "Oh my god," he cried, zipping to his door and swinging it open. "It's not what you think," he said immediately, finding Haizaki a little ways from the door, body angled towards the living room.
Haizaki blinked at him, eyes immediately going from Kise's face to his bare chest then to his pants. "Good morning to you too, sunshine," Haizaki said, eyebrow raised. "Had a good night?"
Kise grimaced, feeling his headache throb harder as if in response. "Um, well…"
Kise paused when Haizaki's eyebrows climbed even higher up, eyes wide and directed towards somewhere right over Kise's shoulder. Kise felt his stomach flop again, and he turned, finding Aomine ambling over with half-lidded eyes and definitely nothing but his boxers. He was rubbing the back of his head and his hair was sticking out in a bunch of places, and Kise vaguely thought it was pretty cute but he was otherwise starting to sink into a freshened state of panic.
"Oh," Haizaki coughed, stiffly averting his head. "Did you two…"
Kise jerked. "What no—"
"Oh uh," Haizaki coughed again, more roughly, taking an unconscious step back. "Were you about to…?"
"Shougo no."
Haizaki cleared his throat, a corner of his lips twitching just a little bit up. "Er, well, I can—go—I should go, huh." Kise flailed, already moving to stop Haizaki, then Haizaki's shoulders relaxed, just a little, as a smirk played at his lips. "Unless you want me to stay and watch—" Haizaki's smile was part leer and part mocking. "I could be into that."
"SHOUGO," Kise wailed, burying his face in his hands as Haizaki snorted a short chuckle.
"Anyway, here," Haizaki said, handing Kise a glass of water with a fizzing tablet at the bottom. "For your headache."
Kise blinked down at the glass, then back up at Haizaki. "How'd you know—"
"Kind of expected you'd get drunk," Haizaki shrugged, peering around Kise to stare flatly at Aomine, who was groggily wandering out of Kise's bedroom with his eyes closed. When Haizaki moved his eyes back to Kise, he visibly stiffened.
"Shougo?" Kise said, tilting his head in question.
Haizaki very distinctly snapped his eyes up to look at Kise's. There was a faint flush on his cheeks as he swallowed. "Uh," Haizaki cleared his throat. "It's nine."
Kise's brows furrowed as he drank. After a few moments of confusedly watching Haizaki try to compose himself, he cocked his head to the side again, questioning.
"New gym. At ten. New trainer," Haizaki provided disjointedly.
Kise's eyes immediately flew wide, and he jerked as if he'd been shocked. "Fuck," he swore, shoving his emptied glass at Haizaki and stumbling towards his bathroom. "Fuck shit crap why didn't you wake me up sooner—"
"I just got here," Haizaki responded, still not quite fully recovered. "Besides, if you didn't wake up from your alarm then that's your fault. Getting drunk too."
Kise grumbled incoherently as he brisk walked to the bathroom, trying not to shake his head around even more than his mind had been spinning.
"Ryouta," Haizaki called.
Kise turned just in time to be met with a face full of towel, and he vaguely muttered a thanks as he retreated to his bathroom, not even bothering to lock the door.
He braced a hand on the edge of the sink as the world tipped around a few times, and he took deep breaths to calm down. It was just nine—his first appointment's at ten. He had enough time to take a shower and dress up. Never mind breakfast—his stomach would probably disagree, and he could just snack on some of the protein bars he still had in the fridge. He was the kind of guy whose hangover didn't last that long, so it shouldn't be obvious—
Kise froze, eyes widening at his own reflection. No, he didn't look sleepy or as if he'd been drunk out of his head, but at the side of his neck, and on his collarbone, were small bruises. Too small to have been caused by any kind of impact, and too big to have been some kind of bug bite.
Images of tan skin against his, and short locks of dark blue hair ticking the side of his head invaded Kise's mind, and his fingers shakily hovered over the small marks as he recalled the feeling of lips against his neck, his skin, blazing heat and electricity where that warm mouth tasted him.
"It's because I love Aominecchi."
Kise's face flared. Aomine. Aomine was right outside, wearing nothing but his boxers, and Kise had no idea what the fuck happened last night but he couldn't dismiss the near clear memory of wine-sweet lips against his, or the calloused hand in his hair, behind his neck, trailing down his side, under his shirt—
Kise swore under his breath, his face completely hot, and he tumbled into his bathroom and showered in cold water. He stood there for a few moments, relaxing under the icy torrent, and closed his eyes, trying to clear his head enough to absently clean himself up. He couldn't for the life of him stop thinking about the way Aomine was so, so close, and the way their lips had moved against each other, the way those warm hands snaked under Kise's shirt, or the firmness of Aomine's strong back against Kise's palms. All Kise could remember was how warm it felt, how it seemed like a match had lit inside him and sparked into a consuming fire. There were groans and hissed breaths, tongue on tongue, skin on skin, the bed dipping as Aomine lowered himself closer, closer—
"Fuck," Kise hissed, pressing his forehead against the chilly marble, and the water against his skin was cold but his body felt like it was burning, his chest on fire, swelling at his heart and crawling up his neck. He groaned weakly, feeling his heart beat loudly in his chest.
Okay. So that happened. At least Kise thought that that happened. His drunk-ass self went and did something incredibly stupid—to Aomine of all people. With Aomine. Kise wished Aomine didn't remember anything, because Kise didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to face Aomine, knowing what he did—what they did—and he didn't know what to say. Kise wished Aomine was the kind of drunk that just rolled with whatever was going on, and then forgot everything the next day. Kise wished that those bits and pieces that he remembered were just fantasies conjured up by his muddled and intoxicated brain. But he knew that something did happen, that there were definitely hickeys on his skin; and he could still clearly remember how it felt to have Aomine against him, and the warmth in Aomine's hands that seemed to seep into Kise's bones.
Despite it all, Kise wished he could remember everything that happened.
Heat pooled at Kise's stomach, and he let out a quivering breath. How long has it been?
Kise shuddered, bowing his head lower against the wall. His hand came up to his neck, and behind his eyelids he could see tan skin and piercing blue eyes, hazy with alcohol and dark with desire, a gaze so rapt and piercing that Kise almost couldn't take it.
Kise let out a shaky breath, his heart stuttering out of rhythm. He brought his other hand against his chest, and slid his fingers down, vague images flashing in his head as if recalled with his touch—a warm palm at his side, slipped under his shirt; a firm grip at his waist, lips against his abs, trailing lower, lower—
Kise bit his lip, pressing his forehead harder against the tile. His breaths shook, inhales and exhales heavy and hot, and Kise's lips parted with an almost inaudible gasp as his eyelids fluttered, his gaze falling down at himself.
("Kise…"
"Aominecchi, I—!")
Kise's eyes screwed shut, heat pooling down from his chest to his stomach. Behind his eyelids he could see Aomine over him, and Kise's hand floating up to pull him down. Again, he remembered those lips: the way they tasted, the way they felt against his mouth, his neck, his chest, and Kise groaned. His hand slid down, just barely tentative, to wrap around himself, his jaw going slack as a hot breath escaped his lips. Kise panted, the insistent clawing of his restraint getting smothered by the building heat at the pit of his stomach, the phantom touches and kisses from that night sparking memories that only made him fall deeper, reduced to raw pleasure and arousal and gasps wrapped around Aomine's name.
"Aomine…" Kise breathed, grinding his forehead into the wall. He let himself submit to those fleeting desires, allowed for those memories and fantasies to stay, just for a while, like bittersweet wine in his head. He knew it would only hurt—and it did hurt—but he held onto Aomine's gaze, that rapt focus that seemed to seep through his bones, and Aomine's kiss—all as if they were what pumped blood through Kise's veins and made his heart beat, made him alive.
#
"If anyone actually did that to you, they'd probably be dead in the morning."
Kise frowned, rubbing his freshly slapped stinging red cheeks. "Naw, you exaggerate," he told Haizaki.
"It's a possibility," Haizaki shrugged. "You've got five minutes, by the way."
"Geh—really?" Kise grunted, scrambling off to his shoes.
"You took too long in there," Haizaki raised a brow, scanning Kise's face, and the area around his neck.
Kise flushed, turning away and buttoning his shirt up. "It took a while to—put the concealer," he muttered. "Which I'm running out of, apparently."
"Well," Haizaki cleared his throat, grabbing his jacket. "You, er, covered up good enough."
Kise tried to ignore the heat he felt crawl down his neck. "Learned from the best," he said, focusing on the sting in his cheeks to get his shit together. The headache was mostly gone, and his mind was struggling to whir into proper motion, but he was getting there as best he could, despite everything.
His brain may have short-circuited a little bit, though, when Aomine walked into view, wearing Kise's shirt.
Kise sputtered, almost tripping over his feet with the shock. "A-Aominecchi!" he tried, the smile on his face feeling more than a little bit off. "Good morning!"
Aomine's bleary eyes narrowed at Kise, his brows furrowing as if he were squinting at too-bright light. "Mm," he grunted, blinking really heavy sleep off of his eyes. "Mornin' sunshine."
Kise couldn't help the smile stretching wider on his lips. He ignored the heat in his cheeks and the tightening in his chest, a little too aware of the uneasy shift of his stance and the previous night's…activities still hanging uncertainty around them.
"Three minutes," Haizaki called.
Kise jerked, scurrying to grab his phones and wallet and stuffing them into his pockets. "Ah, sorry Aominecchi," Kise smiled sheepishly, bustling around looking for his jacket. "I have a thing," he said, trying to keep himself from stealing glances at the way his shirt hugged Aomine's shoulders and arms, unbuttoned and hanging open to reveal his chest. Kise also tried not to crash into any of his furniture when he noticed the small red marks at Aomine's neck, just like the ones on his own. Kise spluttered, face flaring, and physically turned away from Aomine, meeting Haizaki's shifty, pointed gaze. Kise swallowed, pursing his lips, and gingerly turned back to Aomine.
"I—have to go," Kise said, pulling his lips into a smile. "But you can stay if you want. There's food in the fridge. Just lock up if you're leaving."
Aomine blinked at him, rubbing the back of his neck as he seemed to search Kise's face. Aomine hummed an absentminded affirmation, and then his eyes landed on Kise's throat.
The way Aomine's expression visibly shifted from slow, sleepy consciousness to too-clear recognition and recollection made Kise's heart thump loudly in his chest and pool heat all over his cheeks. All of his doubts that Aomine might have forgotten all the shit that Kise got up to that night disappeared right then, and when Aomine's hand reflexively flew up to his own neck, exactly where those small red marks were, Kise felt like evaporating on the spot. Overheating and turning into steam and just disappearing.
"Let's go," Haizaki barked, loudly pulling the door open. He reached forward to grab Kise's collar, making him chirp in surprise, and tugged.
"A-alright, got it," Kise stuttered, stumbling towards the door. He forcefully turned away from Aomine and swallowed hard, not quite sure what to do, barely even able to think.
"Kise."
A small electric zap seemed to jolt through Kise, hearing Aomine call his name, awake and firm. Kise turned, couldn't help but turn, and met Aomine's eyes, suddenly leagues sharper and more alert than he'd been just a few moments before, the determined set to his brow making a lump form in Kise's throat.
Aomine stared at him, in that focused way that reminded Kise so much of the images—the memories—in his head. "Later, I—we need to talk."
Kise's eyes widened a fraction, the lump in his throat dropping heavily down the pit of his stomach. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and nodded.
Aomine nodded back, shifting his weight onto one leg, and if there were insistent specks of doubt still clinging in Kise's mind about what Aomine meant, the faint flush on Aomine's cheeks brushed them all away.
An invisible wall fell in front of Kise, reflexively shutting himself off from Aomine; from his own emotions. It was like a defense mechanism that he'd unwittingly developed—his celebrity mask, the one where he was an actor—a damn good one—his smile pulled smoothly over his face in a copy of optimism too naïve and hopeful.
"I'll be going then," Kise said, unflinching even at the furrow in Aomine's brow.
"Take care," Aomine grunted, eyes scrutinizing. Concerned. "See you."
Kise stretched his smile just a little wider, and he turned, unable to face Aomine any longer—not when the wall he'd put up cracked and collapsed at Aomine's concern just as quickly as it came.
#
Sometimes Haizaki wondered if Kise didn't understand the extent of his own strength, or if he was actually a masochist, or a plain idiot (that last one, he could easily believe)—either way, Haizaki found that he sometimes had to protect Kise from himself, and most recent of all, from his goddamn face slaps.
"S-sorry," Kise muttered, shrinking into the passenger seat of the car. He eyed Haizaki's hands on the steering wheel, the backs of them painfully red and definitely stinging.
Haizaki grunted, focusing on driving fast and not catching sight of Kise in the corner of his vision, the latter of which impossible with Kise sitting right there looking at him. "I swear to god one day you're going to slap your cheeks open and bleed out from your face."
Kise shifted in his seat, and Haizaki was sure he was pouting. "Aw come on, it's not that hard…"
"It feels like the backs of my hands are gonna bruise," Haizaki grumbled. "Were you trying to slap your face open?"
"Of course not," Kise frowned. "I just…wanted to really get my head in the game. After…last night and all." Kise squirmed in his seat, absently fiddling with his seatbelt. "Besides, you didn't have to get your hands in between the smacks."
"Your hands were too far on the wind-up," Haizaki said, stepping on the gas and ignoring the tightening in his chest. "If I didn't protect that stupid pretty face of yours, Rika would skin me." He rounded a corner and drove up to a gate with a small guardhouse. It only took one glance for the guard to recognize them and allow them in, and Haizaki straightened in his seat to peer around for their parking spot.
"Left, the one near Studio B," Kise stated absently. "Well you didn't have to head butt me after."
Haizaki snorted, driving the car to one side. "Yeah, no, you at least deserved that, dumbass."
Kise clicked his seatbelt off as Haizaki parked. "Meanie."
Haizaki rolled his eyes, shutting off the engine and unfastening his seatbelt. He reached around to grab a folder and jacket in the backseat, mentally cursing at himself when he realized he forgot to finish reading all the relevant papers for the day.
"But it had the same effect as my face slaps so I forgive you," Kise hummed. "Even though your head's as hard as a door."
Haizaki tilted his head up and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath to keep from strangling Kise where he sat. The blonde little shit actually snickered, however, so Haizaki ended up pinching his cheek.
"Ow ow ow! It hurts!" Kise cried, grabbing at Haizaki's arm and flailing.
Haizaki released his cheek when tears clung to the corners of Kise's eyes, then flicked Kise's forehead, making him yelp. "There, I helped you out some more," Haizaki sneered. "Now let's go."
He stepped out of the car and locked it after Kise shut the passenger door. He rolled his eyes at Kise's childish pouting and grumbling, and pulled on his jacket as they approached their guides and production staff.
By the time Haizaki bowed in greeting, Kise had already composed himself into the dashing celebrity that he was, his smile warm and attractive, his stance graceful and strong. Haizaki tried not to look at his neck, which he knew was dotted with small hickeys, but otherwise got distracted watching the way Kise's lips formed into a smile, around words sweet and charming. He got distracted remembering the flush on Kise's face when he'd opened his bedroom door to him that morning, and felt heat pulse at his chest remembering the red and blue marks on his neck and collar standing out against fair skin.
Haizaki grit his teeth and clenched his fist, tight enough so that his nails dug into the flesh of his palm. He sucked in a breath and let it out in a huff, as if he could expel his stupid distractions and feelings with that exhale. He smothered the stupid dull throb in his chest and mentally kicked himself to get his fucking head in his work, and dutifully followed their guides into the studio gym where they were supposed to be introduced to Kise's new trainer, who Haizaki was supposed to read up on but was too distracted that previous night to do.
Haizaki's brow furrowed in annoyance, the crease in his forehead deepening when his eyes landed on the nape of Kise's neck, where golden hair met smooth skin. Images of a hand gliding over that neck flittered through Haizaki's brain uninvited, the hand tracing down the path of Kise's spine and resting at the small of his back, the graceful curve flanked by a trim waist and angled hips.
Haizaki felt his blood flare with heat, not the least of which from anger at himself, and neither from the aching in his chest—the one he'd managed to soothe some years ago, yet is coming back just as easily as the ticking of the clock.
"Let me introduce the new trainer," one of the heads told them, and Haizaki was barely able to focus his thoughts as he followed their line of sight.
Then, the heavy, rumbling, almost deafening noise in Haizaki's head suddenly stopped. Everything seemed to go quiet, all his muddled thoughts clearing up like storm clouds being swept away by the sun. He may have even stopped breathing, and his eyes definitely went wide.
Kise's new trainer stepped forward wearing a strict scowl and an all too familiar face, one that made Haizaki's heart thump a loud, resonating beat in his chest, flowing life through his veins but otherwise keeping him shock still.
The man's lips curled up in a smirk, steel eyes regarding him with pleased familiarity. The other trainer at his side finished shaking Kise's hand, then whispered to his colleague in English, "Come on, introduce yourself."
The man's smile warmed into amusement as he sighed. Instead of bowing, he extended his hand. Haizaki couldn't even look down at it, his eyes stuck on that face he hadn't seen for years—didn't think he'd see for years, or ever, for that matter. When he spoke, it was that same, deep voice that was as sharp as his eyes, and as strong as his stance.
"Nijimura Shuuzou," he said with a smirk. "I look forward to working with you."
#
[tbc]