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One.
The music pounded almost painfully loud all around him, making even solid surfaces vibrate with the intensity. All the people there were either flirting, dancing, or were all over each other in the darkest corners of the club. Having fun. Aomine sat at the bar, having ordered the strongest drink, as he usually did these days. Through the navy strands that had long overgrown, he glanced down at the shot glass, the flashing lights against the reflective surface making his drink look awfully appealing, as if the colors swimming in it would make the bitter liquid taste better. It didn't.
Two.
He was no lightweight. The him before... before, would have bragged proudly about it, a smug grin on his face as he happily swallowed down the liquor, albeit a softer and better tasting one than the one in front of him at the moment. Right now, however, he cursed his tolerance to liquor. He was dangerously close to falling apart. The dam was cracking, sorrow in the form of tears pushing at his defenses, desperate for release. He clenched his eyes shut and practically begged the warm liquid pooled in his stomach to absorb into his bloodstream, to send him into the sweet numbness that he craved, before he drowned.
Three.
He felt lighter, was it the alcohol finally taking effect or had he lost weight? His friends had told him so before...
"Aominecchi, did you go on a diet?"
"Mine-chin, you look skinnier, want some chips?"
"Aomine, have you been eating proper meals lately?"
"Dai-chan... I'm worried about you... I know th-"
No. No. He cut that memory short, refused to finish it. She didn't know, nobody knew what he was feeling. He had a gaping hole in his chest, burned and ached as if it was the freshest of wounds, and it was, and it will be.
Four.
The lightheadedness was now very much noticeable, and his lips even twitched a little at this realization, welcoming the feeling that he craved for with open arms, hoping that he too would float away along with his sobriety. Then he heard some obnoxious giggle and more noise from his right, and he realized some broad was attempting to introduce herself. When he turned to give her an uninterested glare, he didn't even see her face, his eyes shot straight to her hair.
Red. Crimson red.
The pang in his chest was positively brutal, and he shot up from the stool so fast his head spun, yet not without taking his bottle and glass with him. No, this was his lifeline, the one thing keeping him sane.
Five.
The floor was disgusting, but he couldn't care less as he sank down onto it, resting his back against a black, shimmery wall. There was a couple some feet beside him, apparently holding a competition to see who could devour the other first, and Aomine looked away in half disgust, half nostalgia. He knew what that was like, those moments of hot, desperate intimacy, but even those he couldn't bring himself to remember. They hurt too much.
Six.
The lights nearly blinded him, but they amused the bluenette greatly. Colors flashed and swam and waved across his vision, and he watched how they draped over people's figures as they moved to the beat of the music, the couple beside him soon joining the sea of dancing colors. He was alone, just staring blankly ahead, eyes that were once filled with fire and unrelenting passion, were now empty, two voids on his face that only reminded everyone else of how they had not lost one life, but two. Aomine Daiki was also gone, all that he was now was a breathing shell.
Seven.
He couldn't understand how they did it, couldn't grasp the thought of how the world could keep on going, when there was something missing. When there was someone missing. Gone. How dare the earth continue to spin with his absence, like it had somehow managed to forget, or not care at all. Aomine hadn't forgotten, he never would, even the thought of going back to his normal life was an impossible dream. His normal life had been taken, ripped away in front of his very eyes and he couldn't do anything about it. It was gone, along with him.
Eight.
With a sharp gulp, he downed his eighth shot of the night. Eight... The eighth month of the year was always a special one. Two birthdays in the same month, the month when they always went on a trip together, to celebrate their birthdays as well as their anniversary. As special as it used to be, now there was nothing to celebrate, for the eighth month was also the darkest of all. The month when his life ended, their lives ended, and this... this started, because he doesn't call this life. He isn't living. He's simply getting by, surviving, dragging himself through days he doesn't want any part in. That's all he is now.
Nine.
He was beginning to feel nauseous, but there was not a soul who could make him gather the strength to get up from the ground anytime soon. The bass pulsing through the air, making his very skin tingle and vibrate, was actually somewhat soothing, in it's own way. So were the lights at the moment. A soft song was playing now, and the walls and ceiling shone a shimmery powder blue. It reminded him of his best friend, and how he hadn't seen him since... that day. He was honestly scared of seeing him again, still scarred from the image of seeing the smaller man's legs failing to support him as he cried and cried throughout the whole ceremony, the blonde accompanying him trying his best to remain strong as he rubbed soothing circles into the lighter bluenette's back. Aomine could only watch his best friend suffer through silent tears, and looked away from the body being lowered into the ground.
Ten.
In the back of his mind, an image of a certain basketball jersey emerged, a black number ten surrounded by white, along with some black and red. It was an old memory, but one that he was deeply fond of nonetheless. A weak chuckle escaped his lips, though completely overpowered by the noise around him, as he allowed himself to think back to that time, their beginning. He brought a shaky hand up to rest on his knee, the band that decorated his ring finger glimmering in the dark of the corner. He put down the shot glass to raise his other hand, fiddling a bit with the silver band before stroking it carefully, lovingly, as if it was his most delicate treasure, and it was, it was all he had left.
He startled himself when the first sob left his mouth, and it was all downhill from there. He held his left hand close to his aching chest, as if that would help contain his overwhelming grief, while his right arm wrapped around his knees, ducking his head between them and holding his now trembling body. The dam had broken, fallen apart, it's pieces washed along the heavy stream. His eyes burned as the salty liquid pushed through them, falling freely down his face and soaking the fabric of his jeans. He sobbed uncontrollably, open-mouthed, loud, and after a while, he opened his eyes. The band was there, safe and protected around the barrier of his body and he slowly turned his hand to glance at the underside of it, a name beautifully carved into the silver, and he clenched his fist a mere second later, the ache in his chest too excruciating to bear.
Kagami Taiga.
The bluenette only sobbed harder, uncaring and unwilling to contain anything anymore, and only one word left his lips in between sobs. The name he wore on his finger, his friend, his lover, the person he swore to love and hold until death did them part, and he did, but never in his years of waking up next to those shining scarlet eyes and loving smile did he think that one day, they would be just another memory.