50 Drabbles

broken wings

It had been so long since Kuroko had seen him that he'd almost forgotten what he looked like; his sharp jawline; his fierce red eyes, always shining like someone had lit a fire inside him; his broad shoulders, leading to muscled arms and callused hands that were surprisingly soft under his touch. Everything that had once plagued his mind, everything that at one point had kept him up at night, wondering how someone like him could possibly exist-everything that he had thought he'd never forget, thought he'd never be able to get rid of, all rushing back at him in a wave of familiarity that caught him off guard. He hadn't ever expected to see Kagami Taiga show up at his door again after the first time he left.

Kuroko had been the one to throw him out, of course. One fight too many, hurtful words he thought he was used to thrown at his face and he lost it. He couldn't take Kagami anymore; be it the insistent drinking, or his temper, though he never got physical. The only reprieve he got was those sober nights where everything caught up with Kagami, where Kuroko had to hold him until he fell asleep crying. Kuroko loved him. That was why he put up with it all for as long as he did. But there was a limit to everything, and as much as it hurt to throw him out Kagami's words hurt a lot more.

Kagami hadn't sent a single text, hadn't called once or tried to contact him at all; it was like he was never there to begin with. Kuroko hadn't been sure how to feel; wasn't it good that Kagami didn't ask to come back, especially when Kuroko probably would have gave in? Wasn't it better to have it be like this, a clean cut?
Except it wasn't. Kagami had left a jagged hole inside of him, and he couldn't let it go. He knew Kagami was hurting too, but he also knew Kagami had ways to deal with it, ways that Kuroko wasn't willing to try. He had an addictive personality, and he knew that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. That's how it had been with Kagami, anyway.

So, when Kagami had shown up at his door, looking pale and tired and all over shitty, clothes a mess and torn, he panicked. Kagami had begged, and Kuroko knew that some part of him wanted that, wanted to be wanted and needed, wanted to be important to someone. He knew that Kagami wasn't flying anymore; the wings that had once carried him up and over everyone's heads had broken, and he finally saw from the same point of view. He knew what would be best for himself-to shut the door and forget about Kagami Taiga once again, to let this pass without comment. But the wings that had brought Kagami had also dragged him along, and he knew what it felt like to be soaring, like nothing in the world could touch him, like it was only them, like it had always been only them. That was in a different world, back when Kagami was all kind words and soft touches and pleasure.

The Kagami he saw now had those eyes-more sad, more mature, more knowledgeable than they had been back then, but the look behind them was the same.
Kuroko knew he didn't have a chance.

And later that night laying in bed with the only man he had ever loved beside him, the only man that had ever broken his heart, the only man who had seen his highest highs and his lowest lows, the man that had showed him how to live-how could he say he didn't want it all again?

And if in the morning when he woke up Kagami was gone, who was to say that he had ever been there in the first place?