Kise misses him so much that it settles in his bones like an old ache that he's carried for years, instead of something that has only lasted for a couple of months.
He has Kasamatsu's entire repertoire of moves memorised; the same way he does with every single other thing he's stockpiled over his years of playing, but there is always more detail attached to the moves that belong to people that he particularly cares about.
When it comes to Kasamatsu, it feels like he has every single mannerism memorised; whether it's important to basketball or not. He can shut his eyes and immediately think of the way Kasamatsu looks when he's smiling, the way his voice sounds when he's embarrassed, the way his lips feel when they're pressed against Kise's . . .
He shakes his head, pulling himself out of it. He's in the middle of a game right now, and he can't afford the distraction, even if he's just practicing against his own teammates. He can't let the ache back into his heart right now, when this is one of his only breaks he'll get from it.
He manages to keep it bay for the rest of the game, but it's back in full force the moment he steps off the court. He sits down with his bottle of water, and pulls his phone out of his gym bag. He's about to send a message to Kasamatsu, asking about the next time they can spend some time together, but he's thrilled to find that Kasamatsu's already sent him a text to ask the very same thing. He mentions a restaurant that's close enough to both of them, if Kise wants.
Kise doesn't want that, though. He doesn't want to share Kasamatsu with the unwitting public, who don't realise how lucky they are to have his presence. He wants Kasamatsu to himself and he sends a reply to that effect. Kise's parents are away for the week anyway, and he adds in a reminder about that, hoping that Kasamatsu will get the hint. He does.
Later that afternoon, when Kise gets home from practice, Kasamatsu is already standing by the gate of his house, waiting for him. They greet each other with casual enough nods, but the moment they're inside with the door locked, it's a different story.
Kise presses himself close to Kasamatsu, like even the smallest amount of space between them is unacceptable. He kisses all over Kasamatsu's face, committing every detail to memory no matter how many times he's already done so.
"Kise," Kasamatsu laughs softly, pulling away.
"I missed you," Kise murmurs, and kisses him again. "It's not even when I use your moves in a game, you know. I want you with me."
"I know," Kasamatsu sighs, and kisses him back. "I'm here now, though."
FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G
word count: 472
Kise misses him so much that it settles in his bones like an old ache that he's carried for years, instead of something that has only lasted for a couple of months.
He has Kasamatsu's entire repertoire of moves memorised; the same way he does with every single other thing he's stockpiled over his years of playing, but there is always more detail attached to the moves that belong to people that he particularly cares about.
When it comes to Kasamatsu, it feels like he has every single mannerism memorised; whether it's important to basketball or not. He can shut his eyes and immediately think of the way Kasamatsu looks when he's smiling, the way his voice sounds when he's embarrassed, the way his lips feel when they're pressed against Kise's . . .
He shakes his head, pulling himself out of it. He's in the middle of a game right now, and he can't afford the distraction, even if he's just practicing against his own teammates. He can't let the ache back into his heart right now, when this is one of his only breaks he'll get from it.
He manages to keep it bay for the rest of the game, but it's back in full force the moment he steps off the court. He sits down with his bottle of water, and pulls his phone out of his gym bag. He's about to send a message to Kasamatsu, asking about the next time they can spend some time together, but he's thrilled to find that Kasamatsu's already sent him a text to ask the very same thing. He mentions a restaurant that's close enough to both of them, if Kise wants.
Kise doesn't want that, though. He doesn't want to share Kasamatsu with the unwitting public, who don't realise how lucky they are to have his presence. He wants Kasamatsu to himself and he sends a reply to that effect. Kise's parents are away for the week anyway, and he adds in a reminder about that, hoping that Kasamatsu will get the hint. He does.
Later that afternoon, when Kise gets home from practice, Kasamatsu is already standing by the gate of his house, waiting for him. They greet each other with casual enough nods, but the moment they're inside with the door locked, it's a different story.
Kise presses himself close to Kasamatsu, like even the smallest amount of space between them is unacceptable. He kisses all over Kasamatsu's face, committing every detail to memory no matter how many times he's already done so.
"Kise," Kasamatsu laughs softly, pulling away.
"I missed you," Kise murmurs, and kisses him again. "It's not even when I use your moves in a game, you know. I want you with me."
"I know," Kasamatsu sighs, and kisses him back. "I'm here now, though."