Kuroko no Basket One Shots - One More Shot

Ringing - Daiki

This is something I wrote for my friend to read and decided to make it a one shot with a few edits here and there. Things like these will be one shots every once in a while if you guys enjoy it =^-^=

(Aomine x Reader)

| Aomine Daiki |

It was like a constant ringing in his ears. The endless sound of the line that represented your heartbeat tortured him, it felt as if something was sucking him into a hole of nothing but the emptiness that you left behind, yet, here he still stood, his feet rooted to the tiled floors as your body stopped breathing. Go home. Why would he go home if you were still here? He promised he'd wait, he vowed that he wouldn't leave without your hand in his. Go home. No, he couldn't leave yet, not until he saw you one last time, not until he kissed the chapped lips of yours that were dry with the look of death and the faint taste of strawberry lip balm.

Death is inevitable, you told him, but my time has just arrived a little earlier. Your voice would pause as you released a cough that sounded like your life would end right there, but then you'd continue and complete your sentence. On the last rung of the ladder you had fallen down from, this was the time you had to say everything, every vile thought that brought despair to your mind, and every last wish containing the long disappeared feeling of hope.

And you asked for one last thing, the taste of bitter americano warming your cheeks as you drank beside the boy you had fallen in love with, so he stood and left. But you didn't want to drink coffee, you wanted to sleep, you wanted to lie down and rest for a little while, just a little while. You knew what you were doing, you knew very well that you were sending him out just to arrive back to a dead girlfriend, but there was nothing else you wanted more than to see him walk out that hospital door with a smile on his face, his lips lifting up slightly in a determined fashion.

You murmured to the nurse good night, even though it was only eleven in the morning, and helplessly snuggled into the soft covers, eyes staring up at the familiar blank ceiling before the pain grew numbing, and you slipped away into an endless dream of what you would never be able to wake up from.

Maybe it was something to regret, but it was worth it that you couldn't see his face when he walked in, two cups of americano tucked into a cardboard tray, his blue hair ruffled slightly from stress. He felt his heart break like never before, a feeling that could never be forgotten, as if someone ripped his heart out and sunk it into a bottomless ocean, only to wake up the next morning to realise that you were missing the beating organ that kept you alive.

And so that was where the ringing began, the persistent noise of something filled with nothing, just like the boy who lost his everything.