practice 2
Darkness has smothered the world like a heavy blanket. Even the moon and stars are shut out tonight; those unwelcome pinpricks of light - or anything else related to light, or bright, or happiness. Wood is not as hard with pillows propped against your back, Kuroko finds. But even then, it’s becoming more uncomfortable, more stifling - as if for some reason he finds it harder and harder to breathe as he sinks into the cushion. Kuroko hasn’t moved from the windowsill since letting Aomine in. That was noon.
Hours before and hours past are registered as: the clanking of utensils from the kitchen, rustling of newspapers, the quiet thump of a coffee mug on their table. Once, these lies had forced Kuroko to awaken, to think everything is normal again, to turn around with wide, hopeful eyes, only to find Aomine glancing up. Then his heart splinters into shards and he tells himself don’t cry don’t lose don’t cry don’t lose over and over like a mantra to save himself.
They think Kuroko isn’t aware. They are taking turns to watch him; all of them. Today is Aomine’s turn. Many things have happened since Teikou, but sometimes, when there is space to breathe, Aomine lets himself imagine, just a little, that nothing has changed.
So when his hands find small, cold ones, and his heart twists with the ‘what If’s and ‘have been’s, there’s little he could do to stop himself from kissing Tetsu. It’s my fault, I know, I know, Aomine thinks. Tetsu, what am I to you now? He wants to ask. Can we go back? Can I take it all back? Tetsu -
It takes a second, his lips burning like molten metal and Tetsu’s eyes lidded. Aomine realizes he’s a bastard, thinks this is inappropriate, wrong, it is not the right time, he’s going to hurt Tetsu, but the past feels as real as the present - with his fingers sliding up smooth, pale forearms, and Tetsu’s shuddering breath ghosting over his lips.
Aomine swallows, trying to forget the present with what he remembers, with what he needs, what he wants. There’s a hollow sound as Tetsu’s head hits wood when Aomine kisses him again, hungry and hot. His lungs burn, lips crushed against softer ones as if Tetsu were air. Can I make you as happy as he can? His head is forced backwards by a tug of his hair, and pain sparks as Tetsu bites, leaving marks along his throat. Aomine growls, when Tetsu breaks the skin of his collarbone, pulling up on the boy’s shirt. Kuroko’s grip loosens abruptly, wet warmth withdrew from his skin, leaving his wound cold. Aomine thinks he hears a quiet “please stop”, but he drowns it out, suffocates it, blocks it out. Not now, not now, not with their hands leaving hot trails of goose bumps on each others’ skin. How can he stop with the way Kuroko trembles under his fingers, his hands travelling up the boy’s stomach, every curve feeling so familiar and right. The past is here, where he is not lonely. Nothing has changed, Aomine tells himself as he draws blood, hearing Kuroko’s breath hitch exactly the way he knows it. They are still a team; light and shadow. This has all been done, this is all that he ever thinks about, and yet -
Tiny hands push against his shoulders, their weight reminding Aomine how much he misses Tetsu - too fucking much - and his voice cracks when he says, “please.” Tetsu.
But everything stops when tears fall onto his face, hands halfway up Kuroko’s shirt. Part of Aomine wants to punch a wall, wants to scream, while the other is frozen over like an empty lake. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, Aomine says, or thinks, he doesn’t know because he doesn’t even hear anymore. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
- nothing is the same. When he straightens up, away from Kuroko, regret hits Aomine straight through the gut. He doesn’t know why he’s covering his face with both hands, settling back on the couch, face still hidden. There’s something difficult stuck in the back of his throat and his eyes burn, but what hurt the most is knowing that if he was missing, Kuroko wouldn’t be sitting by the windowsill waiting for him
They don’t say it but Kuroko knows none of them believe Kagami is coming back. He knows that they think he should move on.
When Aomine touched his hand, when they kissed, Kuroko tried. All he remembers, though, is Kagami’s heat - how calloused hands scratches his hips, the way he leaves Kuroko gasping for air by refusing to break apart, smirking onto Kuroko’s lips as he struggled. Kuroko is acquainted with Aomine’s taste, recognizes how his muscles shiver above him, and meets him like time has not passed and they have always been like this. But his mind is elsewhere, his heart thinking of split eyebrows and a generous grin, and he knows that he cannot return to the past. Not now. Not yet.
Kuroko sits at the windowsill, waiting. He’s been waiting for a month, because Kagami promised to return. He still remembers teasing Kagami about his fear of dogs, and being told to shut up, and:
“Don’t cry while I’m gone because you feel lonely.”
“Only you would do that, Kagami-kun.”
“Th-that was only once! And you were gone for two months. That’s not fair! Stop smirking, you little - ”
“I won’t.”
“Tch. …Wait for me. And what are you doing still standing up - I told you to sit down!”
Tetsuya 2 is sleeping by the fireplace. He was rescued by rangers from the avalanche.
Kuroko waits by the windowsill. He waits for red.