Ship: Akashi Seijuurou/Midorima Shintarou Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: tags omitted Other Tags: tags omitted Original Work:link by wino Word Count: 403
i dont think any major tags rly apply buut to be safe /shrugs anyways hi bent
***
He remembers a beach house. Two glasses, a bottle of wine, or perhaps it was whiskey or brandy, flash of red hair around the corner, an open door. They have been here before, he thinks.
This is the thing about memory. It is familiar, they have played this game before, gone through these motions. It is familiar as it is inevitable, as it is new and something that lingers even after they both try to wipe each other away again. There is a type of memory that cannot be erased, that lingers when his hands reach for Akashi, the brief spark of recognition. Perhaps one might call it muscle memory, but Midorima knows it is only the repetitive familiarity of an action. He is a doctor, after all.
Perhaps also, Akashi is something that has sunk into his bones, his blood, and Midorima cannot erase him however hard he might try.
He remembers the two of them heading down to the beach, shoes abandoned midway in favour of being barefoot, sand between his toes. There, the light house up on the cliff, the lights from the festival. He remembers fireworks and Akashi next to him, staring at the sky while Midorima watched him, the curve of a smile that was sad and understanding. He can only see Akashi’s face in flashes, when the fireworks bloom across the sky. It is instinctive to reach for him, easy from doing it so often, the way they fit together.
He can’t remember if Akashi leans over to kiss him, but he remembers the curl of Akashi’s hand in his, fingers laced loosely together, water around their ankles.
Forgetting does not mean it does not hurt, only that it hurts for a different reason. Absence too, is an ache, and you can mourn things you’ve never had.
Something unravels, stretching thin between them. He thinks he doesn’t want to forget, painful as it has been, as it can be, as it already is. So when Akashi tells him remember me, he tries, holding onto whatever he can.
Stay with me a little longer, he tells Akashi, like it means something, like it will change what is happening. But the tide is rushing in and Akashi’s smile is a little sad, a little wistful. Already it is up to their calves, and Akashi’s looking at him like he understands the need to forget, and the desperation to remember.
By the time the tide washes over him, Akashi is no longer there, and Midorima wonders if this time, he’ll remember.
FILL: TEAM Kominato Ryousuke/Kuramochi Youichi, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Original Work: link by
Word Count: 403
i dont think any major tags rly apply buut to be safe /shrugs
anyways hi bent
***
He remembers a beach house. Two glasses, a bottle of wine, or perhaps it was whiskey or brandy, flash of red hair around the corner, an open door. They have been here before, he thinks.
This is the thing about memory. It is familiar, they have played this game before, gone through these motions. It is familiar as it is inevitable, as it is new and something that lingers even after they both try to wipe each other away again. There is a type of memory that cannot be erased, that lingers when his hands reach for Akashi, the brief spark of recognition. Perhaps one might call it muscle memory, but Midorima knows it is only the repetitive familiarity of an action. He is a doctor, after all.
Perhaps also, Akashi is something that has sunk into his bones, his blood, and Midorima cannot erase him however hard he might try.
He remembers the two of them heading down to the beach, shoes abandoned midway in favour of being barefoot, sand between his toes. There, the light house up on the cliff, the lights from the festival. He remembers fireworks and Akashi next to him, staring at the sky while Midorima watched him, the curve of a smile that was sad and understanding. He can only see Akashi’s face in flashes, when the fireworks bloom across the sky. It is instinctive to reach for him, easy from doing it so often, the way they fit together.
He can’t remember if Akashi leans over to kiss him, but he remembers the curl of Akashi’s hand in his, fingers laced loosely together, water around their ankles.
Forgetting does not mean it does not hurt, only that it hurts for a different reason. Absence too, is an ache, and you can mourn things you’ve never had.
Something unravels, stretching thin between them. He thinks he doesn’t want to forget, painful as it has been, as it can be, as it already is. So when Akashi tells him remember me, he tries, holding onto whatever he can.
Stay with me a little longer, he tells Akashi, like it means something, like it will change what is happening. But the tide is rushing in and Akashi’s smile is a little sad, a little wistful. Already it is up to their calves, and Akashi’s looking at him like he understands the need to forget, and the desperation to remember.
By the time the tide washes over him, Akashi is no longer there, and Midorima wonders if this time, he’ll remember.