Title: Brothers in Basketball Ship/Character: Kuroko Tetsuya&Akashi Seijurou Additional Characters: None Fandom: Kuroko No Basket Major Tags: None Other Tags: the slightest whisper of implied (canonical) abuse, basketball means family Word Count: 532 Remix Permission:See Permissions Sheet
Nothing like some found family. I did my best and I hope you like it!
***
There’s cheering and celebration from Seirin. Akashi--the Akashis? No, for once he’s alone in his head--couldn’t expect any different. There are tears from Rakuzan, the unbeatable, the unbreakable. They’re stifled into jackets, hidden between shrugs. Akashi doesn’t realize he’s crying at first, so confused he is by the incredible silence inside himself. He frowns when he realizes it, wipes his reddening eyes on his jacket sleeve while pretending to muffle a sneeze.
“Akashi-kun,” a soft voice says, and there Kuroko is at his side, laying a soft hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
“I’m going to talk to Kuroko,” Akashi says, and pivots and walks off the field. He turns to Kuroko, who trails behind him like a lost duckling. “You should be off celebrating with your friends.”
“I’m with my family,” Kuroko says. “I’ll go back to them later.”
Akashi feels hot tears spring up in his eyes again, these from some mixture of heartbreak and healing, and pretends to cough, taking the opportunity to wipe them again.
“You can cry, you know,” Kuroko says, tilting his head at Akashi. “Everybody cries when they lose.”
“Not me,” Akashi says. “I can’t cry. That’s the rules.”
“Who said that?” Kuroko asks.
Akashi frowns. “My father.”
“Screw your father,” Kuroko says. “I’m your father now.”
Akashi looks up and almost laughs. “I thought we were brothers.”
He takes a deep breath and thinks back to the promise they made, long before the promise to always play their hardest against each other. One forged over garigari-kun one night, when they’d been talking and laughing and Kise had held out his pinkies and asked them to always be family. They’d linked together in a circle, and, for once in his life, Akashi had felt like a part of something other than an empire.
Then it had all fallen apart. But maybe it didn’t have to be like that anymore.
“Did you ever feel guilty?” Akashi asks. “When you walked away.” He doesn’t mean to guilt Kuroko. He remembers enough of what he’s done to understand why it happened. He just needs something. Closure, maybe? Or perhaps a new beginning.
“Every day,” Kuroko says. “But...things are getting better now.”
“You should go back,” Akashi says. “I’m sure your boyfriend is looking for you.”
Kuroko turns deep red but doesn’t deny a thing. “You’re important too,” he says instead, jutting out his chin in the way he always has when he’s being stubborn.
“I should go back and comfort my team,” Akashi says.
Kuroko nods and then all but disappears, moving forward in a rush so that suddenly Akashi has an armful of him. He wraps his arms around Akashi tightly.
“It’s good to see you again,” Kuroko says, muffled into Akashi’s shoulder.
“You too,” Akashi says. The words feel like not enough, but it’s what he has to say right now.
His head doesn’t feel quite so quiet. Kuroko is there, and his team is waiting, and maybe the rest of the Miracles will be too. Tears well up in his eyes, and he knows for a fact that they’re not about losing the game. They’re happy tears, and he lets himself cry.
FILL: Team 29 Balls to the Face, G
Ship/Character: Kuroko Tetsuya&Akashi Seijurou
Additional Characters: None
Fandom: Kuroko No Basket
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: the slightest whisper of implied (canonical) abuse, basketball means family
Word Count: 532
Remix Permission: See Permissions Sheet
Nothing like some found family. I did my best and I hope you like it!
***
There’s cheering and celebration from Seirin. Akashi--the Akashis? No, for once he’s alone in his head--couldn’t expect any different. There are tears from Rakuzan, the unbeatable, the unbreakable. They’re stifled into jackets, hidden between shrugs. Akashi doesn’t realize he’s crying at first, so confused he is by the incredible silence inside himself. He frowns when he realizes it, wipes his reddening eyes on his jacket sleeve while pretending to muffle a sneeze.
“Akashi-kun,” a soft voice says, and there Kuroko is at his side, laying a soft hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
“I’m going to talk to Kuroko,” Akashi says, and pivots and walks off the field. He turns to Kuroko, who trails behind him like a lost duckling. “You should be off celebrating with your friends.”
“I’m with my family,” Kuroko says. “I’ll go back to them later.”
Akashi feels hot tears spring up in his eyes again, these from some mixture of heartbreak and healing, and pretends to cough, taking the opportunity to wipe them again.
“You can cry, you know,” Kuroko says, tilting his head at Akashi. “Everybody cries when they lose.”
“Not me,” Akashi says. “I can’t cry. That’s the rules.”
“Who said that?” Kuroko asks.
Akashi frowns. “My father.”
“Screw your father,” Kuroko says. “I’m your father now.”
Akashi looks up and almost laughs. “I thought we were brothers.”
He takes a deep breath and thinks back to the promise they made, long before the promise to always play their hardest against each other. One forged over garigari-kun one night, when they’d been talking and laughing and Kise had held out his pinkies and asked them to always be family. They’d linked together in a circle, and, for once in his life, Akashi had felt like a part of something other than an empire.
Then it had all fallen apart. But maybe it didn’t have to be like that anymore.
“Did you ever feel guilty?” Akashi asks. “When you walked away.” He doesn’t mean to guilt Kuroko. He remembers enough of what he’s done to understand why it happened. He just needs something. Closure, maybe? Or perhaps a new beginning.
“Every day,” Kuroko says. “But...things are getting better now.”
“You should go back,” Akashi says. “I’m sure your boyfriend is looking for you.”
Kuroko turns deep red but doesn’t deny a thing. “You’re important too,” he says instead, jutting out his chin in the way he always has when he’s being stubborn.
“I should go back and comfort my team,” Akashi says.
Kuroko nods and then all but disappears, moving forward in a rush so that suddenly Akashi has an armful of him. He wraps his arms around Akashi tightly.
“It’s good to see you again,” Kuroko says, muffled into Akashi’s shoulder.
“You too,” Akashi says. The words feel like not enough, but it’s what he has to say right now.
His head doesn’t feel quite so quiet. Kuroko is there, and his team is waiting, and maybe the rest of the Miracles will be too. Tears well up in his eyes, and he knows for a fact that they’re not about losing the game. They’re happy tears, and he lets himself cry.