Kiseki no Love | Kuroko no Basuke One-Shots

1. Murasakibara Atsushi: Anything for You

1. Murasakibara Atsushi: Anything for You

        Murasakibara twisted in his bed, his long arms crushing his pillow against him. He buried his face into it, letting out a small moan of pain and misery. His head was pounding with an ungodly headache, his fever was through the roof but he was ice-cold, and he was starving.

        Earlier his mother had confiscated his unhealthy snacks and instead gave him vegetable soup. He’d spent a long time protesting the meal, but scarfed it down after his stomach let out the tiniest of mewls. His stomach long surpassed those mewls and were dying whale noises, echoing the empty house. Murasakibara’s reached out and grabbed the house phone, clammy fingers slamming down on the buttons. He brought the phone to his ear and listened as it rang – once, twice, thrice, there.

        “Atsushi-kun?” A soft, worried voice answered. “Is something wrong?”

        “I’m starving and I can’t make it to the food.” He mumbled. “Can you bring me some, (Y/S/N)-chin?”

        “Sure! I’ll be over in a few minutes.” You agreed. “Bye~”

        Murasakibara grunted in response and hung up. He dropped the phone next to him and slumped down, burrowing under his blankets. Warmth began to build up and he let out a soft sigh as his eyelids slid shut. Letting out a small hum, he fell into a deep sleep.

        Ten minutes later, you quickly rap your knuckles against the white, wooden door and wait for a response. You tilted your head in confusion when no one answered and then face-palmed. Of course no one’s answering! You chided yourself as you dug your spare key out of your purse. Atsushi-kun’s the only one home and he’s sick. Shaking your head, you inserted the small, bronze key into the lock and was met with a satisfying click. Grinning, you slid inside.

        You slid off your shoes and placed them off to the side of the doorway and tiptoed upstairs, clutching the paper bag full of snacks to your chest. You took extra care to pick out his favorite junk food and sweet fruit to help him recover. There was little doubt in your mind that the gargantuan would ditch the fruit, so you had to make sure he would eat it. A small giggle escaped you at the thought.

        Despite his giant size, he still acted like a little kid. You thought it was absolutely adorable that he drooled over any sweet in sight and often tugged on your jacket to ask for some of your food. Not that you minded, of course. You were undeniably in love with your best friend.

        Silently opening the door, you poked your head into Murasakibara’s room. Your (E/C) eyes softened at the sight of him curled up in the middle of his king-sized bed, softly snoring with his head tucked under his arm. Careful not to make any noise, you tiptoed over and crawled on the bed over to him. You reached out and felt his forehead, hand shooting back and a soft gasp escaping you. He was burning up!

        You crawled over to the corner of the bed and snatched the medicine bottle from the dresser. Scanning the directions, you poured the contents into the measuring cup by it and set it down. Letting out a breath from your nose, you softly shook Murasakibara by the shoulders. He responded with a groan before turning over, facing you. Those usually bored purple eyes were red and tired, a frown tugging down his whole face.

        “Sorry, Atsushi-kun,” you apologized, reaching over to grab the medicine. “But you need to take this.”

        He wordlessly downed the cup, handing it back when he was done. You stood up and crossed over to his room’s bathroom, tossing the dish in the sink. You grabbed a rag and doused it in cold water and went back into the room. Murasakibara sat there stuffing his face with chips at a ravenous pace before tossing the empty bag down and ripping open a candy bar.

        “Please don’t choke,” you sighed. You wobbled as you tried to set the rag on his head and plopped down beside him. “How are you feeling?”

        “Bad,” he muttered. “Thanks for the food.”

        “Anything for you,” you replied, giving him a smile.

        “Cuddle with me, (Y/S/N)-chin.” Murasakibara ordered more than requested.

        You blinked. “What?”

        “You said you’d do anything, so cuddle with me.” Murasakibara held his arms out. “Please.”

        “S-sure,” you stammered.

        Murasakibara nodded, promptly pulling you into his arms. He leaned back pulling you up so he could bury his face in your soft (H/C) hair. Inhaling deeply, he grinned when he smelled your sweet conditioner let out a sigh of content. Half-lidded purple eyes watched as you leaned into his chest, laying your arm around him. You snuggled into his radiating warmth, the thoughts of his sickness floating out of your head. Not too long after, your eyelids began to droop and you fell asleep.

~Later~

        You groaned as you rubbed your face, throwing your covers onto the ground. It was like your body was burning from the inside-out while your stomach filled with needles and spiraled into coils. Tears pricked your eyes as you curled into a ball only to flail your arms in frustration.

        It’d seemed like a good idea at the moment! Now, you were stuck with your now official boyfriend’s sickness. Well, if you didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked you, but still. This sucked. Not that you would ever tell him that. You’d made sure that no one would tell Murasakibara you were sick so he wouldn’t feel bad.

        Speaking of the devil, he ducked his head and entered your room, a plastic bag in tow. “(Y/S/N)-chin, I brought you some snacks~”

        “What are you doing here?” You cried, picking your head up with wide eyes.

        “Helping you get better,” he replied, sitting down next to you. Your twin-sized bed dipped under his weight as he opened a candy bar, handing it to you. “I got you your favorite.”

        You smiled weakly, biting into (Y/F/C). “Thanks, Atsushi-kun.”

        Murasakibara pressed his lips against your forehead, murmuring, “’Welcome,”

        You were glad you had the excuse of being sick – your face was fire-truck red.