Ship/Character: Haizaki Shougo/Kise Ryouta Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: none Other Tags: slight angst Word Count: 749 Remix Permission: granted!
this is less pain than i intended to write (:3/
***
There is a reason why Ryouta never let his family know that he doesn't strictly live alone in Tokyo. Despite the scent of coffee sticking to the walls for the whole morning, the pot is never filled with the same amount every day, a little bit less one day, a little bit more another day. The residents aren't the same either; Ryouta knows exactly how many cups of coffee he drinks before going to work, but then that number changes when Shougo-kun is over because the time allocated for breakfast is as changing as the nature of their relationship. Shougo doesn't have a routine in the morning, like Ryouta has, and that's why the pot isn't filled the same way.
When Shougo isn't here, the apartment looks empty. It is a small apartment, actually, something not too fancy in a regular building and flanked by two neighbors who wouldn't care much about who he is—they probably don't even know whether Shougo is his boyfriend. It's not like Shougo brings many belongings when he comes over; just a few sets of clothes, another pair of sneakers, magazines and groceries maybe (and those don't count as belongings, surely), and a toothbrush that is now permanently sitting in a glass for his use. When he's not here, everything is still neatly put away, waiting to be taken out. Even so, before Shougo started to claim this place as his own, Ryouta had no problems considering it quite cozy and comfortable. And now when he's alone, the rooms smell different, the scent of laziness slowly vanishing in favor of bitterness. Hogging the bathroom doesn't provide him any satisfaction, despite his many complaints about having no room or time to properly get ready for the day. Ryouta only washes the clothes Shougo leaves on the floor before he storms out of the apartment.
During the weeks they don't see each other for a reason or another, be it because they fought or because they decided it wasn't a good idea to keep dating, Ryouta idly checks his phone for new messages, even though he knows that nothing will come up. It's almost wishful thinking—but can it be wishful thinking if he doesn't expect a miracle? The first time they broke it off, Ryouta's anger felt more like a disguised sadness to him; after so many years of getting to know each other, a single petty fight smashed all their efforts into pieces. The second time was surprising, but not unexpected; the third time, the novelty of the occurrence had already worn off and Ryouta simply accepted another period of cooling down before getting back together. It became regular.
And every time, he would look at the screen of his phone, imagining it lighting up with an incoming message. He only imagines it—imagines a life where Shougo would apologize the day right after their disagreement, imagines himself reaching out first and not waiting for a sign, imagines sharing a real home together. His current living-room is barely big enough to welcome a third chair, let alone a couch on which they can lie on, instead of the sofa that's taking more space than necessary. It's not really a dream, nor an ideal goal, it's more of a glorified reality that could be. It could be, if they weren't constantly so damn fleeting. Everyone tells him to stop this nonsense.
And every time he doesn't listen to them.
Ryouta's phone vibrates. An incoming call. His finger ghosts over the receive key, before sliding across the screen. For a few seconds no words are uttered, only their breathing audible. Ryouta thinks about Shougo's disgruntled face when he's trying to come up with nicer phrases.
“...I'm not saying you were right, because what you said was utter bullshit, but I need a place to crash at.”
“I guess we really need to work on our anger management,” Ryouta snorts.
“Nobody works on that. If you're angry then you're fucking angry.”
“Trust me, there are a lot of articles on this. I looked it up.”
There is a pause. “Of course you fucking did.”
“Shut up. Come back and help me eat all those vegetables, they've been sitting in the fridge for two days.”
“Don't even touch your kitchen, you're gonna burn some shit and we'll have to buy a replacement.”
“That's not even your main concern!”
Maybe one day, they will grow into the people they thought they would be together.
FILL: Team KinKage, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: slight angst
Word Count: 749
Remix Permission: granted!
this is less pain than i intended to write (:3/
***
There is a reason why Ryouta never let his family know that he doesn't strictly live alone in Tokyo. Despite the scent of coffee sticking to the walls for the whole morning, the pot is never filled with the same amount every day, a little bit less one day, a little bit more another day. The residents aren't the same either; Ryouta knows exactly how many cups of coffee he drinks before going to work, but then that number changes when Shougo-kun is over because the time allocated for breakfast is as changing as the nature of their relationship. Shougo doesn't have a routine in the morning, like Ryouta has, and that's why the pot isn't filled the same way.
When Shougo isn't here, the apartment looks empty. It is a small apartment, actually, something not too fancy in a regular building and flanked by two neighbors who wouldn't care much about who he is—they probably don't even know whether Shougo is his boyfriend. It's not like Shougo brings many belongings when he comes over; just a few sets of clothes, another pair of sneakers, magazines and groceries maybe (and those don't count as belongings, surely), and a toothbrush that is now permanently sitting in a glass for his use. When he's not here, everything is still neatly put away, waiting to be taken out. Even so, before Shougo started to claim this place as his own, Ryouta had no problems considering it quite cozy and comfortable. And now when he's alone, the rooms smell different, the scent of laziness slowly vanishing in favor of bitterness. Hogging the bathroom doesn't provide him any satisfaction, despite his many complaints about having no room or time to properly get ready for the day. Ryouta only washes the clothes Shougo leaves on the floor before he storms out of the apartment.
During the weeks they don't see each other for a reason or another, be it because they fought or because they decided it wasn't a good idea to keep dating, Ryouta idly checks his phone for new messages, even though he knows that nothing will come up. It's almost wishful thinking—but can it be wishful thinking if he doesn't expect a miracle? The first time they broke it off, Ryouta's anger felt more like a disguised sadness to him; after so many years of getting to know each other, a single petty fight smashed all their efforts into pieces. The second time was surprising, but not unexpected; the third time, the novelty of the occurrence had already worn off and Ryouta simply accepted another period of cooling down before getting back together. It became regular.
And every time, he would look at the screen of his phone, imagining it lighting up with an incoming message. He only imagines it—imagines a life where Shougo would apologize the day right after their disagreement, imagines himself reaching out first and not waiting for a sign, imagines sharing a real home together. His current living-room is barely big enough to welcome a third chair, let alone a couch on which they can lie on, instead of the sofa that's taking more space than necessary. It's not really a dream, nor an ideal goal, it's more of a glorified reality that could be. It could be, if they weren't constantly so damn fleeting. Everyone tells him to stop this nonsense.
And every time he doesn't listen to them.
Ryouta's phone vibrates. An incoming call. His finger ghosts over the receive key, before sliding across the screen. For a few seconds no words are uttered, only their breathing audible. Ryouta thinks about Shougo's disgruntled face when he's trying to come up with nicer phrases.
“...I'm not saying you were right, because what you said was utter bullshit, but I need a place to crash at.”
“I guess we really need to work on our anger management,” Ryouta snorts.
“Nobody works on that. If you're angry then you're fucking angry.”
“Trust me, there are a lot of articles on this. I looked it up.”
There is a pause. “Of course you fucking did.”
“Shut up. Come back and help me eat all those vegetables, they've been sitting in the fridge for two days.”
“Don't even touch your kitchen, you're gonna burn some shit and we'll have to buy a replacement.”
“That's not even your main concern!”
Maybe one day, they will grow into the people they thought they would be together.