look back at me // aokise

(and please tell me you care)

     Kise follows Aomine wherever he goes. Whether it be a trip to the vending machine or to another classroom, or even to bathrooms with a bright "I need to go, too!" His voice is like his hair ― bright and yellow and standing out. It's annoying, sometimes. His voice would be right behind Aomine's, and it would be loud, the noise (it is considered noise to Aomine) penetrating his ears.

     "Aominecchi!" there he is, running up to the olive-skinned boy. The school bell is going to ring in around five minutes, and it will allow him just enough time to slip into the classroom before he is considered "late."

     To be honest, it isn't like he cares if he is late. He's bored; he's a basketball player, he isn't meant to sit in a classroom for this long amount of time, uselessly sucking up his energy.

     In the duration he plunges himself into his thoughts (which is a pretty short time) Kise catches up to him. "Mean, Aominecchi! You could have slowed down just a bit, you know?" But he says this with a smile. Aomine doesn't care. It's really annoying, the way the blond boy attaches himself to him, like a little golden-furred dog.

     "Hey, Aominecchi, let's eat together!" Kise is smiling, his teeth white like in the advertisements that flash across the television. Advertisements that Aomine isn't interested in. Before Kise can say "Itadakimasu," Aomine starts chewing on his long bread. "Eh, you already started eating?" the other pouts.

     Aomine does not answer, choosing to munch on his own lunch instead. Kise does not mind. He keeps talking, and soon it is just a long buzz of words, one after another, that tries to lull him to sleep that he has more than enough of. Until Kise waves his hand in front of Aomine's closing eyes, that is.

     "Want some of my lunch?" he asks, a grin still in place. "Here― say ah."

     Aomine doesn't want to say ah, but as Kise brings the food next to his mouth, he can't help but open it just the slightest bit. But apparently that slightest bit is more than enough for Kise to stuff the food into his mouth. It tastes delicious ― nothing like his sandwich he is used to eating each day.

     "My mom made it! How is it, is it good?" Kise says, but Aomine's attention is somewhere else already. The flavour in his mouth is buried under the taste of sandwich. But Kise does not give up. "Come on, Aominecchi! My mom's a splendid cook. Just admit it!"

     "I'm going to go to the bathroom," Aomine announces, totally done with Kise's never-ending one-way conversation. For a split second, for a fraction of a single moment, Kise's eyes display hurt, but it must be Aomine's imagination. Because Kise Ryouta, the perfect model, never ever makes this kind of face. His faces only consist of smiles and more smiles, and the occasional crying.

     Kise does not show his crying face often, either. Aomine doesn't know for sure, but maybe Kise saves it for when he's all alone, when nobody else is looking. But that's just a pure guess on Aomine's part, and he can care less if he is right or not. And it's gone in less than a moment, before he can even blink or open his mouth to comment (not that he was going to, anyways), and that stupid smile is back on his face once more.

     "I need to go, too! Let's go together, Aominecchi!" and Aomine has no choice but to let him tag along, but he walks faster. As if walking faster could shake off the annoying boy and make him leave. "Hey, Aominecchi..." and the constant chatter starts again.

     When they come out, Kise is still talking. He's rambling about useless stuff Aomine could really care less about, and he wants to tell Kise to shut up. But there are other students and teachers watching and even though he doesn't care what they think, he doesn't want to get a detention (once again) for yelling at another student and using "vulgar language."