Aomine Daiki's Infatuation. - Aomine X Reader.

I Don't Know

Regular point of view

"I don't know."

His voice resonates on the inside of my cranium, echoing through my mind like the repetition of a broken record.

"Do you fear it, Aomine? Commitment." I ask, boring through his lost eyes, deep in thought.

"Not really." He replies, his waterline ever so slightly pools with unintentional salty liquid, hastily blinking away any that remain, yet it made me hurt all the more knowing his response wasn't "yes." I think it would have been simpler if he did have fears of committing to a long term relationship, but this just felt as though he didn't care for my emotions.

"I'm tired, can we keep walking before I collapse or something?"
Through his complaints, a tension hung in the open air, but I dismiss the moment, inhaled and let it go.

"Yeah, sure." I simply respond, quietly.

The walk home was uncomfortable in feeling, after a particularly nice day, I had expected to get home with a smile hanging from my lips, but with the hunch in my upper back and sniffle invading my nostrils, I let the disappointment envelope me. In my vast sea of sadness, I lock the door and turn to Aomine's hind.

"Can we maintain a friendship given that conversation? I don't want there to be any residual negativity in the atmosphere. Forget anything I said." I urged the haunting silence and animosity of anxiousness to stave away, because the imagination of our friendship disseminating feared me more than the fear of unrequited emotions ever could.

"Mm" a low mumbling grunt withdrew the plumped tissue of his pale brown lips. "I'll be in bed." he responded, it somewhat felt like an invitation, but I felt too unwelcomed to challenge the potential of it.

"Rest easy." a wavering palm traces the skin of my forehead in accumulated stress, in a way, I wanted him to disappear from my vision. "You should get some sleep, it's getting late." his head transitioned from anterior to profile as his eyes peered from the side of his structured skull aside his temple, in which appeared to be harbouring tension accompanied by an emptiness in his usually apathetic eyes.

He heavily ambled his sizable figure through the darkness swallowing the hall and doorways, advancing up the staircase as a large thump of his slumped body created a heavy impression in the bed from the sound resonating through the floorboards.

That familiarity of harrow sought a place to bide within heart and mind, as there is no greater unimaginable struggle, than to love with all of your being, of every fibre, and for the worth to be less than worthless.

As the affliction had dissembled and had nowhere left to travel, I made a sluggish stride of tired feet towards my own bedroom, the coldness of air and lack of body heat only to greet me on the sheet of satin that had been left for many nights, those nights that my back was accompanied by the taction of bronze skin, and that anger inducing, yet comforting small scaled duvet.

Aomine's p.o.v

Was there any regretful negativity I left with the ending of that sentence?

I don't know.

As the hitching of my breathe resulted in the expansion of my glottis, I'd have redeemed the insincerity of those words, that cut me like a knife to say, if I hadn't over thought the procession of love.

"Do you fear it, Aomine, commitment?" she asked without hesitation, and I hated how simplistic it sounded, but how complex it felt.
A simplistic, yes, or no question that I had an honest answer to, but how the dishonesty felt like an obedience to the worries that I entertained.

You love her, but you will never be a lover.

"Not really." I wasn't entirely dishonest, nor was I honest, with myself. The sorrow I felt was a sting to the tear duct of my eyes, but I'd be a fool to show weakness when I exude my pride. Hastily blinking the liquid away.

"I'm tired, can we keep walking before I collapse or something?" a distracting sentence was my attempt at diversion, the less we talk about the situation, the more I had time for contemplation.

"Yeah, sure." I felt her exasperated tone pierce through my ears, and I bide a guilt in place of that.

The once comforting silence held unfamiliar tension, like hurt was a weather, felt as the weather is, sensed and smelt, and I hated it. The walk felt lonely, with (y/n's) sniffles leaving with the breath in my lungs. We approached the house and I allowed her to unlock the door, entering as she proceeded.

But I felt sad eyes pierce my back.

"Can we maintain a friendship given that conversation? I don't want there to be any residual negativity in the atmosphere. Forget anything I said." she spoke through a desperation that left a black void through the center of my chest, taking the air out of my lungs, and instilling a painstaking hurt within me.

"Mm " was all I could withdraw through the sheer hesitation of a voice disruption, before I made a mess of my emotions and it displayed itself physically. From the effort of withholding the feelings that threatened to spew and exploit me, an exhaustion overtook, and all my body wanted to meet was the darkness of my closed eyelids, and the sinking feeling of being encompassed by the black sheets.

But, there was one issue with that scenario...

"I'll be in bed." Endeavours to maintain my stoic, monotone voice, it was almost as if I was inviting her to join me. But it clearly wasn't that simple. I ambled heavy feet alongside heavy eyes weighed down with tiredness up to my bedroom along the corridor. Slumping a defeated dullness of shapely mass into the bed, the creaking of floorboards emitting through the soundless four walls.

... One issue, she wasn't beside me.