Angels Overheard

To Hurt

11.

Like most cases, it begins with an introduction, a word, a smile, an accidental brush of skin on skin, and time.

For Kuroko, he concludes that it must be the time spent with Kise that is the main catalyst which led to his destruction.

Love.

It's perplexing and confusing, and Kuroko hates it. It isn't all rainbows and unicorns, nor does it suddenly make the world appear more vibrant and beautiful. There is no happiness on the whole. Instead, it's painful and tiresome, which just makes Kuroko feel even more adrift than before.

Falling for Kise comes package wrapped with a mountain of problems that Kuroko doesn't even know where to begin. Does Kise even like boys that way? Sure the blonde is overly touchy feely with all his friends, and perhaps with Kuroko more so, but to like to person of the same sex that way? Kuroko highly doubts Kise does.

He has never thought about love. He has never been really interested in girls at all, but then again his eyes were always glued to books. Kuroko wonders if he really is gay, or is it just because it's Kise. He doesn't know at all, and he can't be sure, and this injects fear that seeps through his veins like poison. All Kuroko can be sure is that he has never been sexually attracted to the opposite sex, and he doesn't know whether he ever will.

Kuroko can feel the ends of his hair curl against the back of his sweat-slicked neck. He tries not to think, because that's the wisest thing to do at his stage. All Kuroko wants is to return to being oblivious and naive and not having to ponder over such trivial matters such as 'love' and 'like'.

He can already see the incredulity and scorn in his parents faces should they ever find out their only son being interested in boys in such a way.

Kuroko isn't a fool, and he knows that although the idea of homosexuality has gained more acceptance throughout the years, there are still many people who oppose it. Society is hypocritical that way. It's a web of lies, sweetened with false security and promises of no judging; no categorising individuals based on what they are, who they are or whatever they are attracted to.

But Kuroko isn't afraid. He can't care less about what society thinks.

It's Kise that terrifies him.

Kuroko's breaths escape in little pants, and it takes awhile for him to register the nausea that builds in his gut. The fact that he's reduced to this fragile excuse of a person disturbs him greatly. Kuroko wonders if this is punishment. Perhaps it's because he's been too happy the past few days, so comfortable and complacent with Kise's puppy-dog presence hovering over him like a beacon a hope.

It's Kise that helps him out of the shadows, and Kuroko is afraid that'll it be Kise that throws him back into them.

"What is wrong with me?"

Kuroko all but whimpers. Kise is his friend. Kise can only be his friend. There is no way, no possible way that Kise will ever think of him in such a filthy light.

Unlike him.

Then Kuroko remembers just how warm the other boy is. Vibrant and kind and accepting of him despite how evidently unfeeling Kuroko makes himself to be. Kuroko knows he comes off as droll, blunt, and even rude on some occasions, and Kise takes everything about him in with a smile. But is Kise open-minded enough to accept... this?

A tremor runs through his skin at the thought. He can hear cracking in the silence and it echoes deep inside. Kuroko squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the empty sensation in his stomach to disappear. He knows he should't have allowed his mind to wander, because now all he can think about is Kise. His smile, his hair, his lips, his skin—