Ship: Mayuzumi/Akashi Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Word Count: 411
***
They are hurtling toward the Winter Cup, and Mayuzumi almost believes. He almost believes that this is going somewhere, that they are going somewhere beyond the winter, as foolish as it is. And he’d started out the season as just another face, a nobody; at this point he’s got no face at all, less than nobody, and he’s somebody all the same. The light shines so bright his pale skin, pale hair, blend into the shine of the wax on the court, and he can be everywhere and nowhere at once, even with his limited skills. He almost believes and wants to believe in that paradoxical glory, the glory that comes from the shadows, being dragged somehow into the light.
After all, if Akashi’s as good as he says he is, then why can’t he do that, too? The challenge lies unspoken between them on the bed, too small to be a third participant but making its presence known all the same, the opposite of Mayuzumi. It makes him smile, humorless, and kiss Akashi again (not as if he’s trying to kiss himself real; he’s read enough light novels to know that shit never works the way you want it to, protagonist or no). It won’t benefit him to leave Mayuzumi in shadow except perhaps in terms of spite toward whatever thing Akashi looks toward in the past, some tainted glory that Mayuzumi really doesn’t care about except when Akashi cares about it more than about him. Which is maybe always, but Mayuzumi can't resist the value of a good illusion.
So he doesn’t let go of Akashi, short nails digging into Akashi's skin, flesh pressing flesh and meeting the resistance of those goddamn muscles, not so outlandishly visible but packed on him all the time, the reason he can jump what looks like two meters in the air and dunk on all of them, the reason he always walks as if he’s consciously carrying the weight of himself. Mayuzumi’s greedy, but at least he doesn’t pretend not to be.
He can tell Akashi’s mask is slipping, caked with sweat from behind. But there’s probably another mask beneath it, maybe colored a different way, easier for people to believe it’s the real Akashi (if there is such a thing). But hiding is addicting; Mayuzumi knows that all too well, and even Akashi’s not brave enough to rip off such a comfortably commanding mask and show the reality of his skin underneath.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 411
***
They are hurtling toward the Winter Cup, and Mayuzumi almost believes. He almost believes that this is going somewhere, that they are going somewhere beyond the winter, as foolish as it is. And he’d started out the season as just another face, a nobody; at this point he’s got no face at all, less than nobody, and he’s somebody all the same. The light shines so bright his pale skin, pale hair, blend into the shine of the wax on the court, and he can be everywhere and nowhere at once, even with his limited skills. He almost believes and wants to believe in that paradoxical glory, the glory that comes from the shadows, being dragged somehow into the light.
After all, if Akashi’s as good as he says he is, then why can’t he do that, too? The challenge lies unspoken between them on the bed, too small to be a third participant but making its presence known all the same, the opposite of Mayuzumi. It makes him smile, humorless, and kiss Akashi again (not as if he’s trying to kiss himself real; he’s read enough light novels to know that shit never works the way you want it to, protagonist or no). It won’t benefit him to leave Mayuzumi in shadow except perhaps in terms of spite toward whatever thing Akashi looks toward in the past, some tainted glory that Mayuzumi really doesn’t care about except when Akashi cares about it more than about him. Which is maybe always, but Mayuzumi can't resist the value of a good illusion.
So he doesn’t let go of Akashi, short nails digging into Akashi's skin, flesh pressing flesh and meeting the resistance of those goddamn muscles, not so outlandishly visible but packed on him all the time, the reason he can jump what looks like two meters in the air and dunk on all of them, the reason he always walks as if he’s consciously carrying the weight of himself. Mayuzumi’s greedy, but at least he doesn’t pretend not to be.
He can tell Akashi’s mask is slipping, caked with sweat from behind. But there’s probably another mask beneath it, maybe colored a different way, easier for people to believe it’s the real Akashi (if there is such a thing). But hiding is addicting; Mayuzumi knows that all too well, and even Akashi’s not brave enough to rip off such a comfortably commanding mask and show the reality of his skin underneath.