I... FIXED IT (turns it into the romcom kikasa deserves)
This is basically Kasamatsu being really thirsty throughout like, the four seasons.
--
Kasamatsu is sure he’s never been angrier in his life.
The newly inducted first-years are running drills, and across the court Kise sinks the ball with a quiet creak that speaks of a touch on the basket so light and sure it might as well be flying, easy as nothing, and when he lands, he heads back over with a happy, pleased smile. But it’s a smile laced with smugness, like he had just outstripped and outmatched the entire team, and maybe he did; Kasamatsu can feel the pulse hot inside his head, the way his hands reflexively clench into fists at his side. Laughter, clear as air and just as empty, trails over his head as Kise walks by him (he is so fucking tall, how is he so fucking tall), keeps on walking like he doesn’t have a care for a single thing that gives this team meaning.
It is the first time they meet, and Kise is very beautiful, and Kise is just a little bit terrible.
Putting in one last run to wrap up the day, Kasamatsu feels his heart clench in a moment of clarity so awful he’s sure he’ll grind his teeth to nothing; he knows the remainder of his high school basketball career is doomed to be one of grief and suffering. Nervous around pretty girls, not nervous at all around pretty boys (or very nervous, a different kind of nervous altogether), and this is absolutely infuriating for someone with his eyes trained so clear and unclouded. But anger... anger, Kasamatsu thinks, this is anger, he’s such a shallow, stupid brat, of course I’m angry, look at him... just... he stops with a jolt, sweat sticking suddenly to the back of his shirt even in the cool spring air, and Kasamatsu forces himself to sprint the last of his run even though he’s exhausted, runs himself winded and lungs burning before he even tries to think again.
(Anger won’t do a thing to change the long lean line of Kise’s legs as they eat up the court; the flick of sweat off the wild, pretty throw of his chin; the way the morning light turns his hair to gold.)
Most days it’s fine, as Kasamatsu channels this anger into the steadfast drive for excellence that is his brand as Kaijou’s captain, pushes and prods and occasionally kicks this wayward ace into being their ace; he treats Kise no differently than any of the other first-years, sets him to punishing laps for stupid first-year shit like any of them. And there are so many stupid slip-ups, stupid excuses for missing afternoon practice, stupid pouting at Kasamatsu’s expense; and so there are many laps to be run. Sometimes Kasamatsu runs them with him, when the laps pile up and takes them deep into the evening, and it is in these mundane activities of their everyday lives, when they aren’t chasing after things so big it fills the whole of their sight, that Kise’s smiles go soft and distant, like for a single moment he can just forget the insatiable drive for more inside him. The smile is never for Kasamatsu, but he’s sure he’s fine with that, too.
But some days it’s less fine, when practice works them down to the bone, strips them of everything they have to give until they are bare and raw, and during some summer nights it’s so hot and Kasamatsu is so tired he can’t stop the mess of thoughts, of the way girls crowd around Kise, which ones would be brave enough to touch their lip gloss mouths to his (would Kise let them, yes, of course, that idiot would lap up their attention like the hungry, eager brat he is). He doesn’t know if he’s thinking about the girls or Kise, his head is just a soft focus blur of long bare legs and eyes sly with laughter; but Kasamatsu lets himself have the indulgence of a hand slipped under the waistband of his boxers anyway. When he comes, soft grunts muffled by a face turned into the pillow, the only thought Kasamatsu hangs onto in his desperation is the way sunshine would smell in Kise’s yellow hair.
Like summer. Like warm skin. Like green apples.
(Kasamatsu is not that kind of brave, not yet, maybe never, his mouth is a thin serious line and sometimes a grimace, and practice the following morning is especially brutal.)
It’s at the turn of the season, with the bright green leaves giving way to the soft flush of fall, when Kise shows up late again to another afternoon practice. Kasamatsu had given up on getting their ace in for the day, had run the last drills with a mind toward piling laps on him next practice, and was locking the gym when up walks Kise like he wasn’t two hours too late, and his face is framed in short layers of russet brown instead of the usual gold. Kise shoots him a brilliant smile and a wink. Kasamatsu can only stare back.
“Don’t you like it, Kasamatsu-senpai? They wanted a different look for the new magazine contract I just got, and--”
Kasamatsu feels frustration like an avalanche, lands a kick on Kise that sends him flying into a mound of leaves. Or it would have, if amidst the flurry of motion and a single dismayed yelp, Kise had not latched onto Kasamatsu and pulled them both to the ground in a sprawl of limbs. The leaves are still settling around them as they both groan heavily at the same time, winded momentarily by the fall, and it’s almost comical except in the way Kise is heavy, and Kasamatsu’s eyes go wide at the realisation that the skin where he’s gripping Kise’s wrists to prop him up is also soft, and this close the gold of Kise’s eyes is so intense it’s almost terrifying. A blush grows hot across his cheeks and down his neck, he can feel the heat creep across his body to pool in the pit of his stomach, and Kasamatsu knows that this is not the time, this is not the time to be brave--
With a smile, Kise leans down and kisses him. It’s gentle and chaste, tastes faintly of mint, and Kasamatsu learns just enough of a new kind of bravery in this moment to open his mouth for more.
(In the winter, when Kise stands on the court again and his mouth is filled so full of his heart and his tears, Kasamatsu will let him lean on the broad of his back, and the fall of Kise’s hair, once more yellow and gold, will sweep across the blue jersey like the promise of something different and new.)
FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, T
"The next time you are brunette, and you do."
I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS TO ME
I... FIXED IT (turns it into the romcom kikasa deserves)
This is basically Kasamatsu being really thirsty throughout like, the four seasons.
--
Kasamatsu is sure he’s never been angrier in his life.
The newly inducted first-years are running drills, and across the court Kise sinks the ball with a quiet creak that speaks of a touch on the basket so light and sure it might as well be flying, easy as nothing, and when he lands, he heads back over with a happy, pleased smile. But it’s a smile laced with smugness, like he had just outstripped and outmatched the entire team, and maybe he did; Kasamatsu can feel the pulse hot inside his head, the way his hands reflexively clench into fists at his side. Laughter, clear as air and just as empty, trails over his head as Kise walks by him (he is so fucking tall, how is he so fucking tall), keeps on walking like he doesn’t have a care for a single thing that gives this team meaning.
It is the first time they meet, and Kise is very beautiful, and Kise is just a little bit terrible.
Putting in one last run to wrap up the day, Kasamatsu feels his heart clench in a moment of clarity so awful he’s sure he’ll grind his teeth to nothing; he knows the remainder of his high school basketball career is doomed to be one of grief and suffering. Nervous around pretty girls, not nervous at all around pretty boys (or very nervous, a different kind of nervous altogether), and this is absolutely infuriating for someone with his eyes trained so clear and unclouded. But anger... anger, Kasamatsu thinks, this is anger, he’s such a shallow, stupid brat, of course I’m angry, look at him... just... he stops with a jolt, sweat sticking suddenly to the back of his shirt even in the cool spring air, and Kasamatsu forces himself to sprint the last of his run even though he’s exhausted, runs himself winded and lungs burning before he even tries to think again.
(Anger won’t do a thing to change the long lean line of Kise’s legs as they eat up the court; the flick of sweat off the wild, pretty throw of his chin; the way the morning light turns his hair to gold.)
Most days it’s fine, as Kasamatsu channels this anger into the steadfast drive for excellence that is his brand as Kaijou’s captain, pushes and prods and occasionally kicks this wayward ace into being their ace; he treats Kise no differently than any of the other first-years, sets him to punishing laps for stupid first-year shit like any of them. And there are so many stupid slip-ups, stupid excuses for missing afternoon practice, stupid pouting at Kasamatsu’s expense; and so there are many laps to be run. Sometimes Kasamatsu runs them with him, when the laps pile up and takes them deep into the evening, and it is in these mundane activities of their everyday lives, when they aren’t chasing after things so big it fills the whole of their sight, that Kise’s smiles go soft and distant, like for a single moment he can just forget the insatiable drive for more inside him. The smile is never for Kasamatsu, but he’s sure he’s fine with that, too.
But some days it’s less fine, when practice works them down to the bone, strips them of everything they have to give until they are bare and raw, and during some summer nights it’s so hot and Kasamatsu is so tired he can’t stop the mess of thoughts, of the way girls crowd around Kise, which ones would be brave enough to touch their lip gloss mouths to his (would Kise let them, yes, of course, that idiot would lap up their attention like the hungry, eager brat he is). He doesn’t know if he’s thinking about the girls or Kise, his head is just a soft focus blur of long bare legs and eyes sly with laughter; but Kasamatsu lets himself have the indulgence of a hand slipped under the waistband of his boxers anyway. When he comes, soft grunts muffled by a face turned into the pillow, the only thought Kasamatsu hangs onto in his desperation is the way sunshine would smell in Kise’s yellow hair.
Like summer. Like warm skin. Like green apples.
(Kasamatsu is not that kind of brave, not yet, maybe never, his mouth is a thin serious line and sometimes a grimace, and practice the following morning is especially brutal.)
It’s at the turn of the season, with the bright green leaves giving way to the soft flush of fall, when Kise shows up late again to another afternoon practice. Kasamatsu had given up on getting their ace in for the day, had run the last drills with a mind toward piling laps on him next practice, and was locking the gym when up walks Kise like he wasn’t two hours too late, and his face is framed in short layers of russet brown instead of the usual gold. Kise shoots him a brilliant smile and a wink. Kasamatsu can only stare back.
“Don’t you like it, Kasamatsu-senpai? They wanted a different look for the new magazine contract I just got, and--”
Kasamatsu feels frustration like an avalanche, lands a kick on Kise that sends him flying into a mound of leaves. Or it would have, if amidst the flurry of motion and a single dismayed yelp, Kise had not latched onto Kasamatsu and pulled them both to the ground in a sprawl of limbs. The leaves are still settling around them as they both groan heavily at the same time, winded momentarily by the fall, and it’s almost comical except in the way Kise is heavy, and Kasamatsu’s eyes go wide at the realisation that the skin where he’s gripping Kise’s wrists to prop him up is also soft, and this close the gold of Kise’s eyes is so intense it’s almost terrifying. A blush grows hot across his cheeks and down his neck, he can feel the heat creep across his body to pool in the pit of his stomach, and Kasamatsu knows that this is not the time, this is not the time to be brave--
With a smile, Kise leans down and kisses him. It’s gentle and chaste, tastes faintly of mint, and Kasamatsu learns just enough of a new kind of bravery in this moment to open his mouth for more.
(In the winter, when Kise stands on the court again and his mouth is filled so full of his heart and his tears, Kasamatsu will let him lean on the broad of his back, and the fall of Kise’s hair, once more yellow and gold, will sweep across the blue jersey like the promise of something different and new.)