Fall Apart

«Aominecchi, shall we play one-on-one? »

Not even he who had started it could recall the exact moment this farce began. But by now, it had repeated itself so many times that it had lost any semblance of meaning. It was like repeating a word over and over until it stopped having significance, becoming nothing more than a jumble of letters tumbling out of the speaker's mouth.

That's what it was—a series of actions that had lost their purpose, carried out automatically, devoid of feeling, and offering no escape from a hollow, miserable existence.

However, he didn't like dwelling on thoughts like this—they weren't like him. So, he forced the best synthetic smile he could muster onto his face and ran toward the basketball court, clutching the ball under his arm and forcing a frivolous laugh through his lips. The sound left a disgusting aftertaste of lies on his tongue.

"What have you become, Ryouta?"
The words echoed in his mind, but they were utterly colorless, tasteless; they slid off like water—and, like water, they carried total destruction with them.
"What are you? A puppet in the hands of your own ego?"
Foolishly, he had convinced himself he could silence his conscience. But it spoke louder now, reproaching him for the wretched path he'd chosen, hammering into his brain and leaving no chance of escape.

No, running away from his own mind wasn’t an option.

He turned toward Daiki; the other boy lagged far behind, dragging his steps as though walking was an unbearable effort. His face wore an expression of irritation.

Kise felt his foolish smile die on his lips and forced himself to look away, waiting for the other to catch up.

He shifted his weight from heel to toe repeatedly, rocking slightly; there was no point hiding it—he was nervous.
More than anything else in the world, he wanted to feel accepted, to feel that Daiki considered him an equal.

What wouldn’t he give to finally beat Aomine? An arm? A leg? His dignity? He wanted to defeat him even more than he wanted him. And when the thought struck him of how wrong that was, he shooed it away as one would with a bothersome fly.

He felt the gnawing cold of inferiority seep into his skin, burrowing into his bones and sinking its claws deep, promising torment. He raised his eyes to the sky, absolutely certain that despite the pale spring sun still warming the air, it shone for everyone but him. It was a dramatic thought, he knew, but it fit the moment—especially as every color around him began to fade, obliterated by the indifferent gaze of the person whose approval he so desperately wanted.

The absurd truth was that he had never truly felt part of something—not even part of the Generation of Miracles.

It was the curse of being the newcomer: there would always be something that bonded the others more deeply, leaving him on the sidelines. Even Kuroko had managed to blend in better than him, but that was because Tetsuya was a shadow—his very nature allowed him to adapt to any situation. Kise, on the other hand, was a mirror—entirely useless without something to reflect. To survive, he needed others' attention to be focused on him.

He clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his skin. He was lying to himself—he didn’t need others’ attention to survive; he only needed Aomine’s.

He wanted Daiki to acknowledge him as his equal because not being seen by someone you love so deeply was like dying, disappearing, being erased.

He needed it as much as he needed to breathe.

Finally, he felt Aomine catch up, and he started dribbling. His mind switched off, taking the easiest path: he surrendered entirely to his ego.

[...]

He collapsed to the ground, choosing to blame his stupid foot instead of the frustration crushing him lower and lower into the dirt.

He blinked rapidly in a pitiful attempt to force the tears back, leaving only a faint redness in his gaze, accompanied by an uneven, almost sobbing breath.

Daiki looked down at him, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though he understood everything Kise was feeling, as if he truly saw him for the first time.

Seconds stretched endlessly between them, during which Kise sank deeper into Aomine’s gaze, entranced. It felt strange to be looked at so intensely, to see such awareness in Daiki’s eyes. In a way, he felt exposed, defenseless, unable to do anything.

After what felt like an eternity to both of them, Kise saw Aomine’s right hand extend toward him, offering to help him up. His eyes widened in disbelief at the sight.

Even though Daiki’s face was turned slightly to the side, as though caught in some inexplicable embarrassment, his hand remained outstretched, almost glowing with its own light.

Kise was scared—terrified. He didn’t dare hope for so much. He absurdly convinced himself that if he reached out to take it, Aomine’s hand would vanish, dissolving into nothing along with the boy himself.

He hesitated, doubt sinking its venomous fangs into his gut, making him linger longer than he should have.

Finally, with all the slowness he felt he could afford, he brought his hand toward Aomine’s, feeling its warmth even before touching it.

With almost reverent hesitation, he brushed against the other’s skin before finally grasping it.

It was only in that moment—when he felt entirely connected to him—that Kise realized he had never truly loved Daiki before that very moment. No, he had only loved himself and the opinion he wanted Aomine to have of him. For too long, he had indulged his ego, becoming its slave until he could no longer distinguish where he ended and the person he wanted to be began.

The warmth of Daiki’s grip, however, chased everything else away. It melted the cold that had settled into his bones, allowing him to feel the sun’s warmth on his skin once more. Colors began to return, vivid and bright, replacing the gray that had cloaked everything just moments before.

It was such a beautiful sensation that, for an instant, it overwhelmed all perception. He didn’t even realize he was back on his feet until a smile—finally genuine—bloomed on his lips, spreading to his eyes.

«Aominecchi, shall we play one-on-one? »