We Lost The Summer Whеn We Lost Each Other

Akashi felt guilty.

It wasn’t an emotion he was used to, especially because “feeling guilty” required having done something wrong—an inconceivable notion for him until just a few months ago. 

Until last year’s Winter Cup, he had been convinced he had never lost at anything. But now, after coming to his senses, he realized his first failures dated back years earlier, during his time at Teikou. 

How else could he define losing everyone he loved—hurting and pushing them away—if not as a failure? 

Thankfully, Kuroko had managed to bring them all back to sanity. But Akashi had still lost everything and had even been happy about it, convinced that it was merely paving his solitary path to victory. 

One of his most severe and stinging defeats, however, had been allowing Aomine to sink deeper and deeper into his depression. Instead of helping him as he should have—as his captain—he had kicked him further down into the black abyss he was falling into. 

That was why he had made arrangements for a joint summer training camp between Touou and Rakuzan, hoping to get closer to his friend again and to mend, at least partially, what he had broken. 

Thanks to Momoi’s intel, Akashi knew exactly where to find him, even though Aomine was once again trying to skip practice. 

He found him at the back of the lodge where they were staying, pausing to observe him for a moment. Aomine was lying on the ground with his arms crossed behind his head to make himself more comfortable. 

«Satsuki, if you’re here to tell me to train, you can just leave,» Daiki muttered, mistaking Akashi’s footsteps for Momoi’s. 

«Sorry, it’s just me.» 

Aomine opened his eyes, lifting his head slightly to see him, then rolled his eyes and rested the back of his head on his interlocked hands again. 

«I’m not here to force you to train, but I’d like you to come with me for a moment.» 

The Touou ace sat up, annoyed. «You’re not going to leave until I do what you want, right?» he asked, half rhetorical, half irritated. 

Akashi didn’t even reply, merely smiling at him. Daiki had no choice but to get up and walk over to him. 

«Alright, where are we going?» 

«Follow me.» 

And so they started walking along a path that became steeper and steeper as they moved through the trees near the lodge. 

Neither Akashi nor Aomine knew quite what to say to break the silence that crept between them as they walked, so for most of the time, neither said a word. 

On one hand, Akashi was brooding over his idea. He told himself it was probably stupid, that Aomine would laugh in his face because there was no way something like this could even begin to heal the wound he had helped create. 

On the other hand, Daiki couldn’t figure out what Seijuurou’s intentions were. He felt both curious and, perhaps, a little afraid. He knew Akashi had gone back to being the same person he was in their first year of middle school—the one who cared about all of them. 

This was the same Akashi who made sure Kise ate enough, who ensured Midorima always had his lucky item, even when it was particularly difficult to find. The same Akashi who didn’t hesitate to kick off the team anyone who annoyed Momoi, who bought Murasakibara expensive snacks when he behaved well during practice. The one who allowed him and Tetsu to share the same court. 

But.   

But it was also the same Akashi who had allowed their fragile balance to collapse ingloriously like a house of cards. 

Daiki shook his head; he didn’t like those thoughts. Deep down, he knew Akashi had been a victim of the adults just as much as the rest of them. He couldn’t put him on the same level as the real culprits. 

«Oi, you’re not looking for the perfect spot to hide my body, are you?» he asked, breaking the silence and his own thoughts. 

Akashi allowed himself a faint laugh at the question. «Don’t worry, Aomine. If I wanted to kill you, I’d hire someone to do it for me.» 

And Aomine knew perfectly well that Seijuurou couldn’t make a joke to save his life, so this had to be his strange way of putting him at ease. Strange, but okay. 

«Well, how much longer? I’m starting to get tired…» he grumbled. 

«We’re almost there,» Akashi said simply. 

They kept walking for nearly another hour, and Aomine was tempted several times to tell Akashi exactly where he could shove his “almost there.” But he decided it wasn’t worth it. 

«We’re here!» 

Daiki looked around. He had imagined all sorts of things, but there was absolutely nothing. «So we climbed up this damn mountain for… nothing?» 

«I wouldn’t say nothing. Here, it’s just us. No one can hear you. Scream.» 

Aomine blinked a couple of times, puzzled. «What am I supposed to do?» 

Akashi smiled, but to Daiki, he looked strangely anxious. «Scream. You’ve got a lot to let out, don’t you?» 

And suddenly, Aomine understood. Akashi was trying to make amends, to help him. 

Daiki let out a quick sigh, then stepped closer and affectionately ruffled Akashi’s hair—something he usually only did with Tetsu but hoped would show his former captain that he didn’t hold a grudge and that they were okay. He still cared about him and didn’t blame him. 

«Alright, I’ll scream,» he said, smiling at Seijuurou’s relieved expression as he fixed his hair, «if you scream too.» 

«What?» 

«Well, I’m not the only one with a lot to let out, am I?» 

«I… screaming isn’t my style,» Akashi protested, almost incredulous that his plan was backfiring on him. 

«Neither is it mine. So if I’m doing it, you’re doing it too.» 

Akashi sighed in turn, then stepped toward the edge of the mountain—not close enough to be in danger, but close enough to see the tiny dot far below that had to be their lodge. 

He waited for Aomine to stand beside him. They exchanged a glance, and then both started screaming into the void. 

They didn’t need to look at each other again or communicate in any way to know that the sense of relief coursing through them with every scream was the same for both. 

Once they started, they found it infinitely hard to stop. 

They kept screaming out all their frustrations, all their pain, all their stress, until their throats began to burn. 

Aomine took a few steps back and sat down on the grassy ground, then let himself fall backward, lying down and staring at the clear sky. 

Akashi watched him for a moment, weighing how dirty his clothes would get if he joined him. He decided he didn’t care and lay down next to him.

Seijuurou stared at the sky, his hands clasped over his chest. He wasn’t used to moments like this, the stillness, the silence, and yet a tangible connection.

«You know, I’ve always thought I knew what was best for all of us,» he murmured, breaking the quiet.

Aomine glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a tired smile playing on his lips. «You didn’t do it out of malice, Akashi. You were... well, you were you. It wasn’t perfect, but I never hated you for it.»

Akashi shook his head slightly. «And yet I hurt you.»

«We all hurt someone. That’s just what we were, right? A bunch of kids with too much power and no idea how to handle it.» Aomine turned fully to look at him, his expression unusually serious. «You don’t have to carry all the weight on your shoulders. I forgave you a long time ago.»

Akashi looked at him, surprised. «Really?»

Aomine nodded. «Yeah. And even if you’ve got a weird way of showing it, I know you still care about us.»

Akashi allowed himself the faintest of smiles, sinking back against the grass.

For the first time in a long while, he felt light.