Chapter 2

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When Kise Ryouta stood on the gym’s door, Akashi’s eyes left Aomine for a second. But it wasn’t until he recognized the familiar admiration in his eyes that his fingers twitched. It’s been almost three months since Aomine’s first play and he’d seen the same thing in many people’s eyes. But this one was different, like Kise was mirroring their admiration and reflected it stronger, with more passion and desire.

 

Yet he did nothing, because really, what was there to do? It was just a little stir, a twitch. It meant nothing. But maybe it meant something because it turned out that Kise liked Aomine and no one played her this good before, not even Murasakibara though it was close. She laughed and invited him back for more one-on-ones and Akashi’s twitching came back after so long ignoring it. Still, he did nothing.

 

Kise was a natural and he came inside the gate like Akashi had expected. But besides his incredible ability to learn so fast with one hundred percent accuracy, sometimes Akashi thought that it was more of Aomine's taunts and mocks and invitations that truly drew Kise in, again and again.

 

(Years later, he learnt that it wasn’t)

 

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 Kise wasn’t good enough.

 

He was excellent in basketball, excellent in making his fans screamed so loud it hurt their ears, and truly excellent in getting what he wanted. Akashi was just the same, but the way they did it was completely different.

 

Still, he wasn’t good enough and Akashi wasn’t talking about basketball. He was talking about other things. Other things that were apparently only meant Aomine and her alone.

 

The one-on-one today almost made him feel pity for Kise—almost. He played his best while Aomine did nothing except strolling around the field, scoring of what seemed like the hundredth time and Akashi knew it wasn’t losing that hurt Kise the most.

 

“Again, Aominecchi!” he whined, watching Aomine bouncing the ball on the rim of the ring and caught it before she glanced and sneered.

 

“Nope.” She said. She passed him the ball, though. “This afternoon, maybe.”

 

Aomine knew her fault and was making up to it. Akashi didn’t know if it was the knowledge or the fact that Aomine thought about someone else that made him uneasy the most.

 

When he came that afternoon, she didn’t fail to notice his calculating eyes and said nothing when he watched them play. She played like her; with ferocity and strength, power and skill that once again reminded Akashi why he chose her of all people. Kise once again losing, but he laughed anyway.

 

“You’re amazing, Aominecchi.” He breathed then laughed again at Aomine's attempt to smirk when her breath was as labored as him. They stayed just like that, sprawled all over the floor, clutching their chests, sucking air like there’s no tomorrow. There really was no tomorrow like this.

 

Because tomorrow, Aomine wouldn’t let him drape his arm on her navel, wouldn’t let him inhale her scent so close, wouldn’t let him thread his finger through her short hair, and wouldn’t let him say that he liked her.

 

But today, she let it happened and close her eyes until she felt her shoulder dampened because Kise knew it too.

 

“I love you, Aominecchi.”

 

“You don’t.” Aomine whispered. “Fuck, I’m not good at this—just—just don’t cry. It’s embarrassing.”

 

It was the fact that she actually opened her eyes to look at Kise and said that with a soft voice which made Akashi's gut stirred and his fingers twitched he could no longer ignore it.

 

 

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