Ship: Akashi Seijuurou/Mayuzumi Chihiro Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: None Other Tags: ex-boyfriends ex-bandmates au Original Work:link by mondegreened Word Count: 472
***
Emperor Voice takes the top of the charts on its first week of release.
Chihiro stands in front of the display, a face mask pulled up to cover his mouth and nose in the chill of Kyoto winter, a beanie covering his hair and making him less recognisable as he stands in front of the display, staring at the life size cut out of Seijuurou by the shelf, amazed by the sheer hatred he's capable of, resigned to the steady burn that's he's long since identified as love.
He doesn't reach for the neat row of albums, not even to knock them aside the way that he wants. He keeps his hands in his pockets and turns away, walking home.
There's a copy sitting on his doorstep. For a moment, Chihiro considers cracking it with the heel of his boot, smashing it until it's nothing more than shards of plastic. It's not like Seijuurou's given his heart any more care than that, anyway.
Shutting his eyes, Chihiro takes a deep breath and bends to pick the album up.
It takes up residence on his coffee table and he spends the next week pretending that he doesn't see it there. He refuses to talk about the album, or about Seijuurou, to anyone who asks, whether they're from the press, or from their old band. His scratch pad at work is full of lyrics that have nowhere to go: he carries your needle pricks in his skin, didn't realise you were bleeding him dry. Songs with no music to go with them, nothing more than a beat that he can tap out with his pencil as he thinks, retreating into work when he can't take solace in music any more.
He should have known better than to think that this sort of thing would last. Let Seijuurou take on the world by himself. Let him bring it to its knees before him. Maybe before, Chihiro would have been the first to kneel. Now, he'll refuse just out of principle.
Have you heard the album? the other members of the band text him, and he only looks at their messages for long enough to delete them. He doesn't need the contact, he doesn't need the commiseration and most of all, he doesn't need their attempts at facilitating some sort of reconciliation. Seijuurou already made his position crystal clear when he left the band. Chihiro likes to think that he's made his position just as clear in return.
If it's attention Seijuurou wants, if it's popularity, if those are the only things that truly matter to him, then he's clearly not having any trouble getting that on his own. If he doesn't need Chihiro for the sleepless nights, the downward spirals, the crashes between the hard work and demanding tour schedules, then fine. Chihiro isn't about to start chasing him.
FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, G
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: ex-boyfriends ex-bandmates au
Original Work: link by
Word Count: 472
***
Emperor Voice takes the top of the charts on its first week of release.
Chihiro stands in front of the display, a face mask pulled up to cover his mouth and nose in the chill of Kyoto winter, a beanie covering his hair and making him less recognisable as he stands in front of the display, staring at the life size cut out of Seijuurou by the shelf, amazed by the sheer hatred he's capable of, resigned to the steady burn that's he's long since identified as love.
He doesn't reach for the neat row of albums, not even to knock them aside the way that he wants. He keeps his hands in his pockets and turns away, walking home.
There's a copy sitting on his doorstep. For a moment, Chihiro considers cracking it with the heel of his boot, smashing it until it's nothing more than shards of plastic. It's not like Seijuurou's given his heart any more care than that, anyway.
Shutting his eyes, Chihiro takes a deep breath and bends to pick the album up.
It takes up residence on his coffee table and he spends the next week pretending that he doesn't see it there. He refuses to talk about the album, or about Seijuurou, to anyone who asks, whether they're from the press, or from their old band. His scratch pad at work is full of lyrics that have nowhere to go: he carries your needle pricks in his skin, didn't realise you were bleeding him dry. Songs with no music to go with them, nothing more than a beat that he can tap out with his pencil as he thinks, retreating into work when he can't take solace in music any more.
He should have known better than to think that this sort of thing would last. Let Seijuurou take on the world by himself. Let him bring it to its knees before him. Maybe before, Chihiro would have been the first to kneel. Now, he'll refuse just out of principle.
Have you heard the album?the other members of the band text him, and he only looks at their messages for long enough to delete them. He doesn't need the contact, he doesn't need the commiseration and most of all, he doesn't need their attempts at facilitating some sort of reconciliation. Seijuurou already made his position crystal clear when he left the band. Chihiro likes to think that he's made his position just as clear in return.If it's attention Seijuurou wants, if it's popularity, if those are the only things that truly matter to him, then he's clearly not having any trouble getting that on his own. If he doesn't need Chihiro for the sleepless nights, the downward spirals, the crashes between the hard work and demanding tour schedules, then fine. Chihiro isn't about to start chasing him.