Work Text:
Kuroko falls asleep in Hanamiya’s bed during the evenings when the moonlight forgets to slip through the sky. The surface of the world on these days is a seamless shape that blends glimpses of his hopes against a shade of wrath whose taste that only Hanamiya is familiar with. Beyond the border, there is a bridge somewhere that connects their world to another realm where Hanamiya becomes happy and Kuroko becomes fearless, but this is only when the moonlight forgets to slip through the sky.
In the middle of the night, Hanamiya rolls over and pins him down against the pillows. “Hey,” he whispers softly in Kuroko’s ear, soft strands of his hair tickling Kuroko’s neck. “I’m hungry.”
“Are you,” Kuroko murmurs, still half-asleep. “Go ahead, then.”
Hanamiya leans down and sinks sharp fangs into his throat.
Kuroko learns to leave it behind in the mornings. During the day, he is productive to the point of futility and certain of the justice behind his actions. He attends business seminars and writes down notes with a pen that has run out of ink, plans his own demise in the afternoons before buying a thin sandwich to eat at the combini down the street.
“You’re so pale,” Kagami tells him. “Kuroko, have you been sleeping all right?”
“I’m fine, Kagami-kun,” says Kuroko, and smiles. “I’ve never been better, in fact.”