Ship: Nijimura/Haizaki Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Word Count: 472
***
Haizaki’s not stupid or corny to say shit like how this must be a dream or a fairytale, that this is unreal, that Nijimura’s his fucking dream boy. It does have a little bit of a surreal feeling to it, this thing between them, but why is that ever considered a good thing? There’s a reason they call it falling for someone, and Haizaki’s been in enough fights to know that when you fall your head’s going to hit the pavement eventually and it’s going to hurt like a motherfucker.
And that’s what’s going to happen with this, too, eventually. It’s not a thing he can just enjoy; he’s just waiting for the bomb to go off, every night Nijimura gets home late ending with him trying to make his leg stop shaking against the table, anticipation drumming his belly from the inside. This is it; he’s disgusted; he’s found someone better or he’d decided he’d rather be alone than with Haizaki. So when’s it going to be?
He always ends up home, with an apology and some of his extra tips from work stuck in the change jar, his phone in the charger on Haizaki’s side of the bed, wearing one of Haizaki’s old shirts that’s just a little too big for him, standing on those weird-looking knobby toes of his to kiss Haizaki’s mouth.
“Cheer up,” he’ll say, nudging Haizaki in the side (forehead flicks are reserved for the dumb kids at his work and his younger siblings now, and it’s not like Haizaki wants one--but).
Nijimura catches him one night, tearing at the edges of the newspapers, shredding the perforated ends between his nails, sitting on his restless leg, jaw too clenched to pretend it’s been loose.
“What’s this all about?” Nijimura says, sitting next to him on the couch.
He doesn’t say he’ll wait or get snippy; he puts his hand, calloused and scarred, on Haizaki’s knee, staring off into space the way he does, and it’s an awful feeling in Haizaki’s chest, like Nijimura’s extending this trust Haizaki doesn’t extend back (they know which one of them’s more trustworthy).
“When are you—?” Haizaki waves a hand. “You know. Am I going to know when you’ve had enough of me?”
He bites those last words, bitter on his tongue; Nijimura’s eyebrows fly up and he scoots closer.
“I hope that never happens,” he says.
“It will,” says Haizaki.
“You’ll see it coming if it does,” says Nijimura. “But as long as you’re not tired of me, I’m in this.”
His eyes are serious, his other hand reaching for Haizaki’s before Haizaki can jerk it away, but even when he tries his body won’t let him.
“I hope you know what you just signed up for,” Haizaki says.
“I think I do,” says Nijimura, leaning in to kiss him.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 472
***
Haizaki’s not stupid or corny to say shit like how this must be a dream or a fairytale, that this is unreal, that Nijimura’s his fucking dream boy. It does have a little bit of a surreal feeling to it, this thing between them, but why is that ever considered a good thing? There’s a reason they call it falling for someone, and Haizaki’s been in enough fights to know that when you fall your head’s going to hit the pavement eventually and it’s going to hurt like a motherfucker.
And that’s what’s going to happen with this, too, eventually. It’s not a thing he can just enjoy; he’s just waiting for the bomb to go off, every night Nijimura gets home late ending with him trying to make his leg stop shaking against the table, anticipation drumming his belly from the inside. This is it; he’s disgusted; he’s found someone better or he’d decided he’d rather be alone than with Haizaki. So when’s it going to be?
He always ends up home, with an apology and some of his extra tips from work stuck in the change jar, his phone in the charger on Haizaki’s side of the bed, wearing one of Haizaki’s old shirts that’s just a little too big for him, standing on those weird-looking knobby toes of his to kiss Haizaki’s mouth.
“Cheer up,” he’ll say, nudging Haizaki in the side (forehead flicks are reserved for the dumb kids at his work and his younger siblings now, and it’s not like Haizaki wants one--but).
Nijimura catches him one night, tearing at the edges of the newspapers, shredding the perforated ends between his nails, sitting on his restless leg, jaw too clenched to pretend it’s been loose.
“What’s this all about?” Nijimura says, sitting next to him on the couch.
He doesn’t say he’ll wait or get snippy; he puts his hand, calloused and scarred, on Haizaki’s knee, staring off into space the way he does, and it’s an awful feeling in Haizaki’s chest, like Nijimura’s extending this trust Haizaki doesn’t extend back (they know which one of them’s more trustworthy).
“When are you—?” Haizaki waves a hand. “You know. Am I going to know when you’ve had enough of me?”
He bites those last words, bitter on his tongue; Nijimura’s eyebrows fly up and he scoots closer.
“I hope that never happens,” he says.
“It will,” says Haizaki.
“You’ll see it coming if it does,” says Nijimura. “But as long as you’re not tired of me, I’m in this.”
His eyes are serious, his other hand reaching for Haizaki’s before Haizaki can jerk it away, but even when he tries his body won’t let him.
“I hope you know what you just signed up for,” Haizaki says.
“I think I do,” says Nijimura, leaning in to kiss him.