#wahahaaa

The second time he saw Akashi Seijuurou, he drowned in crimson.

Figure gracing the stage, silky voice dripping into the microphone.

“And so, the Student Council has decided…”

Applause. Clapping from all five hundred and four students and thirty one staff members. Akashi bowed and walked back to his seat, movements so graceful he looked like he was gliding.

Kuroko stared up at him, pale hand futilely attempting to block out the light.

Figure gracing the stage, he was too far away.

Akashi Seijuurou’s shine was far too bright.

The third time he saw Akashi Seijuurou, he drowned in vermillion.

He had opened the door to the clubroom by accident, stumbling upon a rare sight.

The absolute captain, arm draped over his left leg, propped up on the chair he was sitting on; cheek resting in the crook of his elbow, right hand raised, piece in hand—

Kuroko could only see his side, but even that was mesmerising enough. Then, the captain turned.

“Reo, I told you to--”

Kuroko was gone before he could finish speaking, door left open in his wake. Akashi raised a brow, exhaling in exasperation before standing up. Kuroko remained leaning against the wall around the corner, panting, heart pounding.

Akashi Seijuurou was only human, just like him, but he was so far.

His shine was still far too bright, but Kuroko found he could gaze at him from the sidelines unperturbedly.

The fourth time he saw Akashi Seijuurou, he drowned in golden-amber.

“Kazuo. What are you doing?”

His voice was frightening, mismatching orbs shining menacingly.

Fire. The colour of fire, Kuroko realised, swallowing dryly.

No--

--the colour of blood.

“I-- I was just trying to show Maki how to--”

“I was not aware that you were skilled enough to become an instructor. Would you like to advise the first and second string on my behalf, then?”

“N-no,” Kazuo gulped. The redhead’s composure was unnerving, frighteningly so.

“Know your place.” Akashi uttered, voice overwhelming with authority. His left eye bore into the second string member, who collapsed onto the ground, knees weak. Kuroko swallowed thickly. Too far. Too bright. The four words he had always associated with the heir.

Yet…

As he gazed upon him, he found that he saw nothing but darkness.

Who was Akashi Seijuurou? How would one describe him?

“Perfect,” mere students of no worth would say. “A leader,” some would answer.

But to Kuroko Tetsuya, he would always be “unreachable”.

So why was it that, the day he’d deemed fit for death--

--why was he gazing into that very pair of eyes he’d always looked up at, never meeting?

Arms outstretched as his figure drew closer… What was he--?

Ah, Kuroko had realised, he’s trying to catch me.

He wanted to laugh, or maybe cry at the irony of the situation.

'Perhaps I should've stayed for the second string advancement test next year, after all.'

He fell.

And a fortnight later, he found his lips locked with the captain’s for the first, but not last, time.

Four months.

That was the time limit left until Kuroko Tetsuya’s hospital release.

Or, “The time I have to find out more about Akashi-kun,” as he had dubbed it. Gazing upon the said male, Kuroko’s cheeks were dusted with pink as he mentally traced the Rakuzan captain’s sharp, handsome features.

He was falling, and he was falling hard. Akashi’s incessant, fleeting touches did nothing to help that fact, either. Kuroko inwardly huffed at the world in all its unfairness. Akashi glanced over at the pouting male, eyes glittering with mischief.

Which did nothing to stop Kuroko’s blushing, either.

How unfair was that?

‘His eyes…’ Kuroko swallowed dryly, peering into Akashi’s warm, crimson orbs, ‘they’re both red.’

He opened his mouth, but the redhead turned, and he immediately shut it.

No--

--it wasn’t his place to ask.

The first month was the longest, Kuroko had been told. But for him, it was far better than the second.

“Now commencing surgery for patient Kuroko Tetsuya, from room 114. Diagnosis is…”

The doctor’s words were drowned out by the sounds of machinery and clinking glass. Kuroko closed his eyes, the thick hospital scent sickening to his senses. It felt like days before they were done, and his only comfort was the thought of seeing the familiar mess of crimson locks again. Hours later, Kuroko had never been happier to return to the hospital bed. A knock resounded on the door before Akashi slipped in, perking up upon seeing Kuroko awake. He acknowledged him with a nod, which the latter returned, albeit weakly.

“Tetsuya.”

“Akashi-kun,” Kuroko mumbled.

“Are you tired?”

Kuroko’s only response was a hum, before he jolted back up.

“Sorry, I--”

Akashi walked over, taking the seat situated snugly next to the bed. He gently pushed Kuroko back into a lying position, stroking his sky blue locks comfortingly. His voice was smooth, soft and alarmingly serene. Kuroko’s eyes closed despite himself.

“Sleep, Tetsuya. I’ll come again. We have all the time in the world.”

It was a few weeks later that they realised how wrong that sentiment was.

“Hurry! Get the blood transfusions…”

“There aren’t enough here! You! Get to the storage and back here, STAT!”

“Certainly!”

“Pass me the scalpel!”

Akashi knocked on the door, brow furrowing when Kuroko was nowhere to be found. A nurse rushed past him before stopping abruptly.

“Akashi-sama?”

“Yes,” Akashi confirmed. The nurse’s eyes were heavy with worry, fear, panic, turmoil. Dread crept through the redhead.

“Kuroko-kun is in the emergency operating room.”

Akashi froze. Questions piled up in his mind, and they tumbled out when he opened his mouth.

“How? Why? He just had the surgery a couple of weeks ago--”

“There’s been a problem. After the treatment was deemed successful, the doctors found signs of compartment syndrome; to sum it up, the blood flow to a certain compartment of organs or muscles is inadequate; and so, he was immediately taken to the emergency operating room.”

A staff member dashed past them, blood bags cradled carefully in their arms. Akashi felt his heart fill with something unknown.

“His blood type--”

“Is A negative,” Akashi cut her off, “I’m AB negative.” He scowled, biting back the frustration he felt as the nurse wilted.

“I think… You should know this, Akashi-sama,” She spoke up hesitantly, pausing.

“One of the potential outcomes of compartment syndrome is permanent tissue damage. Kuroko-kun may very well never walk again, or…” She trailed off, uncomfortable.

“…In the worst case… He may lose his life altogether.”

‘Lose his life--?’

Akashi felt numb. It had only been less than twenty four hours since he’d last seen the male, but such times felt like years ago. He tried to swallow, but his throat was drier than sandpaper.

The nurse noticed his change in demeanour, and instantly fussed over him, getting him to move into one of the waiting seats.

He felt void.

The same cheery, snarky male he’d come to enjoy spending time with, never being able to walk again? Never being able to talk again?

…Never being able to see him again?

No.

No--

‘No,’ Akashi repeated in his mind, a mantra to keep him steady. He wanted to yell at the unfairness of it all. Pain coursed through his left eye, and he clutched it as he sunk further down.

“Akashi-sama?”

‘No.’

“I’m afraid to tell you that your mother, Akashi Shiori…”

‘No.’

“…didn’t make it.”

‘NO.’

“Record: patient 109863. Status: deceased. Time of death: 2:34 AM.”

‘NO!’

As the nurse rushed off, Akashi barely registered a sting on his palms. Wincing slightly, he glanced down to see his fists tightly curled up. Surprised, he pried his hands open.

Red dripped onto the floor, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

In a situation of utter importance, he couldn’t move once again.

Just like back then--

--he couldn’t do anything. So weak. So powerless.

So disappointing.

Akashi closed his eyes, gathering himself together, gathering the threads; desperately trying to tear the ones connecting him and the boy nearly unrecognisable under all the hospital equipment.

He found that he couldn’t,

just like five years ago.

(And then, once more, he’d be left all alone in the world.)

He wondered how Kuroko had ever managed to get so close.

“…ma.”

“…shi-sama.”

“…”

“…kashi-sama,” the voice repeated.

“Akashi-sama.”

‘So noisy.’

The redhead’s vision was bleary as he opened his eyes. The halls were near pitch black, the dim lighting feeble and flickering.

“Akashi-sama, the operation has finished.” The doctor said slowly. The words did wonders to wake him up, and he tensed.

“It was deemed a success. Would you like to see him?”

All the tension melted away from his body like ice on a summer’s day. The Rakuzan captain nodded, stifling a yawn.

(Tired? Him? Never.)

“Kuroko-kun is resting in his room. However, he’s still asleep, so--”

The doctor’s voice trailed off as he noticed Kuroko sitting up, expression blank. His eyes were locked on the wall in front of him, and he didn’t move a single inch, much less notice the new presences in the area. Akashi’s eyes narrowed.

“Tetsuya.”

Kuroko jolted, eyes widening. He exhaled noisily upon turning and recognising the culprit.

“Akashi-kun, don’t scare me like that.”

The said man nodded slightly to the doctor, who mimicked the gesture before leaving.

“What were you thinking about?” Akashi asked, cutting straight to the chase. The tealhead blinked.

“The operatio--”

“Liar.”

Kuroko fell silent, as did Akashi. Then, a self-deprecating smile spread across the former’s cheeks, a small chuckle falling from his lips.

“I really can’t fool you, Akashi-kun.”

His voice was bitter, smile tainted with repulsion. Akashi’s heart clenched. He didn’t want to see Kuroko like this.

“Do you know what happened when they diagnosed me, earlier?”

Akashi stayed silent. Kuroko was not looking for an answer. Finally, he lifted his previously downcast eyes to face the heir.

“I thought, ‘it’s finally happened’. For a split second, I was relieved, that what I had wanted previously finally came. No, rather, I didn’t try to fight it. And then I remembered you,” Kuroko breathed, “and I was angered at myself for such thoughts. Very much so.”

“Don’t make your basis for living, me,” Akashi blurted out. Kuroko inclined his head, “I don’t plan to. But you saved me, gave me another chance. It would be a shame to waste it, especially when I expect myself not to have thoughts along those lines ever again.”

His eyes darkened once more, “But I did, and I can’t forgive myself.”

Akashi cupped Kuroko’s cheek, snapping him out of his rapidly dampening thoughts.

“Listen,” The words falling from his lips before he could think twice, “nobody expects you to instantly change your mindset, Tetsuya. I don’t expect you to. However, you already regained your will to live within a mere fortnight, after retaining those thoughts for nearly a year. It’s been less than two months; you can’t expect yourself to undergo a complete transformation.”

Kuroko’s eyes widened, and before he realised what he said, the question slipped out.

“Who are you?”

Akashi visibly tensed.

“What?”

“…Your eyes,” The phantom said, voice barely audible, “they’re both red.”

Akashi fell silent, hand lifting up to cover his supposedly golden eye. He closed both, a terrifying smile spreading across his lips. He let out a short laugh, much too dark to be pleasant.

“Is that so?” He said quietly. Kuroko froze. “I see.”

To Kuroko, even without being an expert on human psychology, he could tell that he wasn’t the one Akashi was talking to. Rather, the redhead was clearly talking to himself--

He lifted his hand, and his eye had regained its sharp, cutting colour. The amber burned bright, and it was as if the sinister glint in his eyes had never left.

“I wonder why you’re the only one who can bring him out, hmm?” Akashi smiled, voice low. Kuroko swallowed.

“…Bring… Him out?”

“Yes,” Akashi nodded simply, “the other me.”

Kuroko tilted his head to the side inquisitively, eyes narrowing -- Akashi allowed himself a small smirk at the lack of shock in the former’s expression.

“Aka--”

“Although,” Akashi said, voice soft as he caressed Kuroko’s cheek, leaning in to whisper against his ear, “it would be best for you not to pry.”

Underlying his words was an undeniable lace of venom that sent chills down Kuroko’s spine. He inadvertently let out a small shiver, and Akashi chuckled, the sound even more electrifying in its proximity. He slipped back into his seat, satisfied.

Kuroko didn’t relax for the rest of the visit.

The next time he mentioned Akashi’s other persona, he was met with not fire, but ice: ice that pierced through his body like a hot knife through butter.

“I advise you to not pursue this matter,” Akashi had answered smoothly, eyes cold, so cold, that Kuroko couldn’t delve deeper.

It was the first time those eyes had been directed at him. He swallowed dryly, heart pounding.

And when he brought the topic up a final time, he took a much bolder approach. Hand cradling Akashi’s cheek akin to how the latter had always done such to him, he flashed the heir a featherlike smile; soft and fleeting, his eyes softening. Akashi’s breath hitched, visions flashing incessantly in the back of his mind.

That smile. It was that smile that he’d faced just before Kuroko had made an attempt on his own life.

(That smile he had seen from a person he couldn’t seize.)

Kuroko’s thumb brushed the cheekbone beneath his left eye; gently, tenderly. Akashi felt his pulse begin to rise.

“Akashi-kun,” Kuroko began, voice as soothing as ever, “No matter who you are, you’re still Akashi-kun. That fact will never change. So, whether it’s now, or in a month, a year, I’ll still be waiting.”

Akashi wanted to open his mouth, but his body betrayed him. Kuroko’s palm was cool and calloused; evidence of his efforts.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me.”

The two sat in silence, Kuroko’s hand never leaving Akashi’s cheek.

A knock resounded on the door, and he lowered his arm.

“Akashi-sama, visiting hours are over.”

Feeling as if there had been some sort of break in their regular routine, Akashi stood up, for once, at a loss for words. No, that wasn’t right -- his words always seemed to slip away at the most unexpected moments whenever he was with the phantom. The pair exchanged a nod, both their usual greeting and their silent “see you tomorrow” -- and Akashi found that he could breathe, that they had retained some sort of semblance of their regular, daily cycle they had both become so fond of.

Kuroko, however, seemed to have different plans.

Barely audible even in the silence of the seemingly large room (Kuroko was small, too small to be staying there alone, Akashi mused), he whispered words that tore through the redhead.

“Don’t think for even a second that I won’t accept you.”

Akashi’s shoulders jolting were the telltale signs of his astoundment; Kuroko silently praised himself on his apparent gift of unnerving the absolute emperor.

“Thank you.”

The phrase was just as soft, if not even more so than Kuroko’s. The said male’s eyes widened, startled.

Opening the door, before Akashi stepped out, he turned halfway to gaze back at Kuroko, left eye visible.

 It was a brilliant crimson.

~~