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Summary
This is a fic in which Kise declares his love and gets rejected. No more, no less.
Once upon a time, a friend told you that he knew exactly how he would dispose of a body after murder. One day you will stop equating love with dead bodies. But today is not that day. This is Kise's story. With little experience, he probably thinks of his love as a great light suddenly flooding in, or a color he has seen all his life the wrong way, or a precious weight he didn't realize he was carrying and now cannot drop, or that movie moment when a montage plays across the screen and you realize, it was him all this time. It was him all along.
You, on the other hand, think of his love as an exquisite corpse, one he started by himself and now must complete by himself. It is easy to finish off a thing that never bloomed, like hiding the body of a person you never knew. Love is like digging a hole in your heart, one that can fit a person. You can fill it with dirt, or with a body. It doesn't have to be the body you had in mind when you dug it. Just enough that it's the right shape. One way or another, we cover the hole back up. Then we go right back with a shovel, and dig again.