Ship: Nijimura/Himuro Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Word Count: 477
***
“You can tell me if you change your mind,” says Shuu, brushing his lips over Tatsuya’s. “Anytime.”
“I want to keep this separate for now,” Tatsuya says, and takes a step back. “But thank you.”
He’d passed control over to Tatsuya; that’s the way Tatsuya likes things, generally, but not when it’s something like this, not when he has to deny and lie like this. Tatsuya tells a lot of half-truths and untruths, but he doesn’t like to, not like this. Just because he’s good at it doesn’t make it easy, even in the moment. He doesn’t want to keep this separate; he wants to let it all spill over the sides; when’s he going to get another chance like this? (Anytime, Shuu had said, but that means’s it’s better to let Shuu’s feelings wane like the moon—the moon comes back, but this won’t, not until Tatsuya’s gone, not that that’s a sure thing, but it’s close enough to it.)
Tatsuya’s the one who has to say it, and Shuu should know him well enough to know he won’t. Maybe a diplomatic solution, but the larger part of Tatsuya says it’s vain hope, the idea that maybe Tatsuya will be in it for real, that Tatsuya will escape his screwed-up insides and then, what? Every time Tatsuya tries to get close enough to Shuu to show him that this isn’t what he wants, Shuu refuses to see it. It’s like he looks at it and it’s not in his visible spectrum, stares straight at it and somehow.
(Don’t throw it away, don’t fuck it up, you’ll be gone in a few months, call him your boyfriend. You’re going to let him in too much; don’t let him in, keep pushing back firmly; it’s only for a few more months.)
He doesn’t say it when he clings onto Shuu a little bit too long, that he wants it. When he gets up in the middle of the night to leave, he takes an extra second, an extra minute, an extra five until he’s been staring into space and the clock’s moved too much and Shuu is still asleep beside him. He knows where the spare key is, always locks the door behind him and sticks it back under the mat, tucked into the lining. He doesn’t say it, and then Shuu wakes up and blinks at him in the half-light.
“I meant that, you know,” he says, sitting up to look Tatsuya square in the face. “The offer’s still open.”
It’s like somehow he always knows, even when he doesn’t know, even when he doesn’t see. Like he’s the ocean waves tirelessly wearing down Tatsuya’s stone defense. This time, Tatsuya nods and lets Shuu pull him back down, lets himself settle down into Shuu’s arms. He falls asleep much sooner than he expects to.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 477
***
“You can tell me if you change your mind,” says Shuu, brushing his lips over Tatsuya’s. “Anytime.”
“I want to keep this separate for now,” Tatsuya says, and takes a step back. “But thank you.”
He’d passed control over to Tatsuya; that’s the way Tatsuya likes things, generally, but not when it’s something like this, not when he has to deny and lie like this. Tatsuya tells a lot of half-truths and untruths, but he doesn’t like to, not like this. Just because he’s good at it doesn’t make it easy, even in the moment. He doesn’t want to keep this separate; he wants to let it all spill over the sides; when’s he going to get another chance like this? (Anytime, Shuu had said, but that means’s it’s better to let Shuu’s feelings wane like the moon—the moon comes back, but this won’t, not until Tatsuya’s gone, not that that’s a sure thing, but it’s close enough to it.)
Tatsuya’s the one who has to say it, and Shuu should know him well enough to know he won’t. Maybe a diplomatic solution, but the larger part of Tatsuya says it’s vain hope, the idea that maybe Tatsuya will be in it for real, that Tatsuya will escape his screwed-up insides and then, what? Every time Tatsuya tries to get close enough to Shuu to show him that this isn’t what he wants, Shuu refuses to see it. It’s like he looks at it and it’s not in his visible spectrum, stares straight at it and somehow.
(Don’t throw it away, don’t fuck it up, you’ll be gone in a few months, call him your boyfriend. You’re going to let him in too much; don’t let him in, keep pushing back firmly; it’s only for a few more months.)
He doesn’t say it when he clings onto Shuu a little bit too long, that he wants it. When he gets up in the middle of the night to leave, he takes an extra second, an extra minute, an extra five until he’s been staring into space and the clock’s moved too much and Shuu is still asleep beside him. He knows where the spare key is, always locks the door behind him and sticks it back under the mat, tucked into the lining. He doesn’t say it, and then Shuu wakes up and blinks at him in the half-light.
“I meant that, you know,” he says, sitting up to look Tatsuya square in the face. “The offer’s still open.”
It’s like somehow he always knows, even when he doesn’t know, even when he doesn’t see. Like he’s the ocean waves tirelessly wearing down Tatsuya’s stone defense. This time, Tatsuya nods and lets Shuu pull him back down, lets himself settle down into Shuu’s arms. He falls asleep much sooner than he expects to.