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The world is dark when he wakes.
Yet not unusually so. The accident that had taken his sight resulted in all-encompassing darkness every time he opened his eyes... but this was different. Familiar and simultaneously uncanny. It makes his stomach clench and his skin crawl.
He feverishly grasps towards his face. Rough bandages fastened around his head give him an idea as to why everything is still so dark.
“Aomine Daiki.” An unfamiliar voice calls out his name, “I see you’re awake.”
Bits and pieces return to him. That’s right; he had just come out of surgery. Through his morphine tinged daze, he tilts his head towards the offending voice, hoping it passes for an acknowledgment.
“The procedure was a success; we’ll be able to remove the bandages in a few hours.” He feels strong hands guide his own hectic fingers away from his face, before the voice continues. “Would you like me to call anyone to accompany you when we take them off?”
Satsuki would want to be there.
She was there with him when it happened... the traumatic accident that had left him blind. He knew she'd never truly let it go; constantly blaming herself despite his own assertions otherwise.
'If I had insisted that we play somewhere else.'
'If I had told someone where we had gone.'
'If I had been faster.'
“No, no one.” He replies firmly. Faded memories of her pink hair and warm smiles surface as if he hadn’t seen them in over a decade, and dissipate just swiftly.
--
He dreams in sound and feeling and darkness.
--
Finding a donor had taken years.
At the time of his incident the procedure was still theory weaving into practicum, and neither of his parents had been inclined for him to play lab rat. He endured their stubborn fear of the unknown for what felt like eons. Years passed in sound and feeling; years lacking dawn or dusk. Crossing the initial threshold of puberty in darkness had been the first of many hurdles.
Four years after his blind stumble into adolescence they finally found a match. Four years of nothing until, out of nowhere, a light at the end of the metaphoric tunnel.
--
“We dimmed the lights,” A second voice tells him methodically, hours later. “The first time is a bit of a shock, so don’t be concerned if things seem extra bright.”
Cool hands find their way around his face, brushing his nose and ears as the bandages are pulled away. He keeps his head tilted downward and vaguely wonders what the nurse will look like. For the first time in years he allows himself to wonder what the room will look like. The soft folds of the sheets clutched in his hands. The cool bars on either side of the bed frame. After what seems like hours the nurse makes an encouraging sound in the back of her throat and he cracks his eyes open.
The first thing his brain registers isn't the overbearing, bright, blurry shapes surrounding him, nor is it the stinging in the back of his eyes. It’s the shock of red to the left of his vision.
‘Red like an apple.’
The thought jettisons through his mind as pressure begins to build at the base of his neck. His eyelids slide down out of habit, absently returning him to the blissful nothingness he was accustomed to.
“It may take a while to get used to, but your vision will clear up by tomorrow.” The nurse says softly, standing and shuffling towards where the door must be. “Push the red call button if you need anything. We’ll be keeping you here for about a week to ensure everything’s running smoothly.” Her voice implies a hopeful smile, but he hasn't reopened his eyes to check. Old habits and all that.
He nods and listens to the door click shut. A deep shuddering breath escapes him. Aomine allows himself a few seconds of blessed silence before cracking his eyelids open again.
There is no red this time. He finds blues and greys and greens; huge blobs swaying as he opens his eyes wider, pivoting his head to the side, scanning the walls. Slowly larger objects come into focus and he deciphers the corner of his bed. The immaculately crisp and white sheet pulled taut over the edge. The glistening chrome handle of the doorknob. The flat black primer of a picture frame hanging nearby the gently looming shelves.
His breath catches in his throat and his gaze drifts downwards towards his lap. His hands lay there gently, almost as if forgotten amidst his buffet of visual intake. They’re much larger than he had remembered. He flexes one hand purposefully and lets the other splay open wide, watching the blurry forms move and squinting as his eyes become accustomed to their new incentive. Soft edges slowly give way to defined, sharp forms along his knuckles and veins.
The image wavers and blurs as he turns his palms upwards. He laughs despite himself and his supplicating hands gather the tears that manage to escape.
--
He dreams of red.
--
The next time he wakes, he’s shocked by the clarity of the room around him.
“Dai-chan?”
He turns left and is greeted with soft skin and a visual fortification of pink. So much pink.
“Wow. You got hot.” He deadpans. His gaze purposefully traces the folds of her collar, absorbing every detail he thought he'd forgotten.
Her reply is in the form of a punch to the arm and a bright smile.
--
He dreams of a school he’s never seen. Of a sport he’s never played. Of red hair and bright laughter.
--
Two days pass and he’s bored. There’s only so much he can look at in the small hospital room. Do they not grasp that he has years of sights and images to catch up on? The excitement of determining the difference between colors and letters had worn off quickly.
Even Satsuki’s company is starting to wear on his patience. Particularly her constant nagging to look in the mirror. The mirror he had been actively avoiding since he first opened his eyes to something other than gauze and blobs. Explaining to her that it was weird and dammit I’ll ogle myself when I’m good and ready had gone over as well as he had expected. He'd been unable to properly form the words to let her know just exactly how jarring it was to actually see her after so many years, let alone himself.
Visiting hours had finally ended and although thankful for the silence, Aomine finds himself restless.
Coming to a decision, he carefully eases himself out of his assigned bed and creeps towards the door. He takes a conspiratory breath and glances out of his cell... he lets out the breath with a smirk and thanks whatever god has granted him a mercifully deserted hallway.
It's late, he can tell. The lights in the hospital corridor have already been dimmed and the staff is whittled down to the overnight crew. Overpaid doctors and well wishers having evacuated the grounds hours earlier.
Stepping into the quiet hallway he takes a deep breath, eyes roaming over the walls and occasionally lingering on the sparse paintings littering them. A soft noise makes him flinch and spin around to reassess the corridor, momentarily doubting his new eyes.
At the end of the hall he spies a tall figure with bright red hair, who disappears around the corner before he's sure they were truly there at all. Aomine feels the hairs on his arms raise. Obstinately ignoring the sensation, he sets off down the hall to follow the mysterious silhouette. But no matter how fast he walks, every corner her rounds the other is disappearing around another.
It’s not long before he’s out of breath and hopelessly lost.
“This place is too damn big.” He mutters bitterly to himself, before he turns to find the way back to his room.
--
He dreams of warm hands and lazy summer days. Of suns and moons and a face he’s never seen.
--
The next day when the nurse comes to check up on him, he asks about the tall man with red hair. She gives him a confused look and informs him that there are neither patients nor staff that fit that description.
He closes his eyes with a sigh, red hair and broad shoulders clinging to the edges of his mind.
--
It’s late when he hears the soft footsteps outside his door and in a flash he’s out of bed - pulling the door open in a hasty swing. He pads into the empty hallway and glances around. Nothing. Breathing a harsh sigh, he retraces his steps from the previous night until something catches his eye. A plain looking folder sitting in the middle of the walk way, clearly dropped. Upon picking it up his eyebrows knit together as he reads the label on the top right hand corner.
Patient Name: Aomine Daiki.
“That’s…..professional.” He grumbles, vaguely resentful that someone would just drop his file in the middle of a hall where anyone could pick it up.
'Well, I’ve got nothing better to do.' He thinks, flipping it open and leafing through the papers.
Most of the file consists of data recalling the injury that had left him blind in the first place, old news. It’s not until he’s almost to the end that the bolded word’s ‘Cornea Donor’ catch his eye and a name that shouldn’t be familiar.
Kagami….Taiga?
Suddenly he is very aware of the fact that he is not alone.
Turning slowly, he’s faced with the back of the red headed man standing a few feet away from him.
“You-“ he starts but stops short, holding his breath.
The man tilts his head and turns to face him, eyes closed, and Aomine’s blood runs cold. He knows him. He’s never seen him in his life but he knows him.
“Ka…gami?” He breaths, barely above a whisper.
Kagami grins at him, cocky, striking something akin to affection deep within him.
“It’s a little ironic,” He says, his voice warm and so familiar it aches, “That we vowed to see each other in another life. Fate has a nasty sense of humor it seems.”
His eyes violently peel open and Aomine stares into nothingness.
--
He wakes with a jolt, breathing hard and covered in sweat.
It's morning and he’s in his hospital bed. Scrambling he pulls the sheets off and all but lunges into the small bathroom attached to his room. Staring hard at the small sink he braces his hands on either side and takes a deep breath, willing his body to stop shaking. Lifting his head he looks into the mirror he had been avoiding for days, gazing at a reflection he hadn’t seen in years. Sharp cheek bones, dark blue hair, tanned skin, a pointed nose. But the thing that stood out most was the eyes. Placing a shaking hand on the mirror before him he heaves a broken sob and stares.
Red eyes stare back.