10001 Nightmares Party

[Fic] all the world's a stage (Kuroko's Basketball)

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For Kagami Taiga, it's like this; he gets up at almost four in the morning, running through his two hour training routine after a quick protein shake and eats a proper breakfast when he gets back, Kuroko stumbling out of the bedroom while Taiga is in the middle of his fifth sandwich. Taiga, mouth full and cheeks bulging, makes a noise that can vaguely be called a hello, if one squints and accepts a certain amount of suspension of disbelief. Kuroko, in turn, stares at him in mussed sleepiness for a solid five minutes while he silently makes a pot of coffee because Taiga doesn't drink it and Kuroko thinks his attempts are trash—not that he's ever said that, of course, but Taiga just knows, okay.

Finally, Kuroko drinks his first clunk and smacks his lips, a sedated sigh departing from him. He straightens a bit in his chair, blinking at Taiga as if just noticing him, and smiles. It's the kind of smile Taiga dreams about; mainly his dreams are of playing basketball and of course if he's dreaming of playing basketball Kuroko is there, and of course if they're together they're winning, and if they're winning they're smiling and laughing and hugging and kiss—them, so it's the kind of smile Taiga dreams about, is all. As friends do. Of course.

“Good morning, Kagami-kun,” says Kuroko, puffing out his cheeks as he drinks some more coffee. He stayed over after the Seirin-team meetup, and also after the Kuroko-and-Kagami meetup and admittedly also when they went to he movies together earlier this week, and also also that time they had dinner together at Maji Burger for old times sake, or so Taiga said but really he just really, really had a certain craving. For burgers. Of course.

Obviously.

Ehem.

So maybe Kuroko has slept every night in Taiga's apartment for the last three months. Or something like that, anyway, it's not like Taiga's counting or anything. That would be weird. They're friends! Friends stay at each other places all the time!

“Morning,” says Taiga roughly, swallowing the last of his meal. He rests a hand on his stomach and leans back in his chair, exhaling and staring at Kuroko for entirely an approtaiote amount of time, naturally. Searches his expression. “You aren't still worrying about it, are you?”

“Of course not,” Kuroko says, tilting his head and smiling that utterly tiny smile that is all the prettier for it. “You made your opinion very clear.”

“Right,” nods Taiga, and smiles. “So you'll move in?”

“Yes, Kagami-kun,” says Kuroko, eyes glittering and though his smile doesn't grow wider Taiga can sense the joy in him. “I'm moving in.”

Fuck yeah, thinks Taiga, and doesn't say it because he doesn't want to seem like he's bursting at the seams in excitement even though he totally is. But it's totally normal to be excited when your best friend moves in with you! It's perfectly normal to spend hours planning out the new layout of the apartment when they get in Kuroko's surviving furniture from the water-damage, and wrestling his closet into submission because they're going to have to share, and figuring out the optimal location for the second futon in his bedroom so Kuroko won't get the draft from the open window Taiga likes to sleep with.

He's only got the one bedroom, Taiga thinks, and it isn't going to be awkward at all, because they're friends, and friends have sleepovers all the time. Even when they're 26 and one of them is a professional basketball player who's on a temporary break from work for a season due to recovery from an injury—read: he twisted his ankle and had an existential crisis—and the other is a graphic designer who can work from anywhere and was going to move in with his grandmother on the other side of the country leading the first one to have one more existential crisis that lasted for approximately two seconds before he made up his mind and made the offer. During the Seirin-team meetup and everyone had promptly lost their minds.

But Kuroko accepted.

Then everyone lost their minds again.

Anyway, so yeah everything is great, the world is beautiful and Taiga feels so fluffy inside he's not entirely sure his insides aren't just made of teddy-bear stuffing. It feels like that would be an accurate assessment. Like he's a cloud, and Kuroko is the rainbow, and he can't stop looking at Kuroko all breakfast but that's fine, too, it's totally normal, he's only keeping an eye on him so Kuroko doesn't do his vanishing trick and scare the crap out of him when he does the dishes. Which has, in his defense, already happened. Multiple times. A day.

Taiga just tends to get a bit distracted when he's doing things on muscle memory, like cleaning. And when he gets distracted he starts thinking about how cool it's gonna be to live together with Kuroko—officially. He's not blind! He knows they're kind of sort maybe already living together a little bit. But that's just because it's convenient, and now it's gonna be because they're actually living together; it's a whole different thing, and Taiga starts singing his favorite song while he does the dishes and when he turns to get more Kuroko is right there, watching him.

“Kuroko!” Taiga places a hand to his thumping heart. “How many times do I gotta tell—”

“Your voice is very pretty, Kagami-kun,” says Kuroko, utterly ignoring him. He's always like this, thinks Taiga fondly, and then realizes what Kuroko said and erupts into an explosion of blushing.

“You—” Taiga points at him and blubbers something incomprehensible. Finally, he manages to get out a semi-audible wheezing, “How long have you been here?”

“I never left,” says Kuroko, blatantly lying because Taiga knows he heard the toilet flush not too long ago and it wasn't him so unless they have a ghost—

Wait.

“Is there a ghost in our apartment?” yeps Taiga, dropping the dripping wet plate. Kuroko effortlessly catches it, and Taiga holds it to his chest when he gets it back, glancing around every nook and cranny of the well-lit kitchen. In actuality, he could afford a much bigger place, but he's never gotten around to it; he likes this apartment, has a lot go good memories from this place, and it's just as well to save his money anyways. Besides, when he's working he's hardly ever here, so really it's just sitting empty a lot of the time and Kuroko ends up watering his plants. And buying new ones.

They have a lot of plants these days.

“There isn't a ghost,” says Kuroko calmly. Then he adds, “But Kagami-kun is very cute when you're scared.”

“I'm not cute,” says Taiga, his fear leaving him at the preposterous words. He's a lot of things—handsome, awesome at basketball, good at cleaning, mindful of his money and budgeting—but pretty isn't one of them. He raises an eyebrow at Kuroko. “Are your eyes going?”

“I can see perfectly,” Kuroko says, and steps back so Taiga can resume his cleaning. He eyes Kuroko for a moment longer, making sure he's really fine because if his eyes are getting bad the earlier they catch it the better, but Kuroko merely whips out a book and settles on the kitchen counter, crossing his ankles in the air as he reads a porny romance novel that Taiga couldn't read a single page of before ascending to another plane of existence. Shuddering at the painful memories—Kuroko wouldn't let him forget it for months, dragging out his black history relentlessly like the menace he truly is deep inside—Taiga turns away and hums as he finishes up, the lighting from the ceiling reflecting off the sparkly clean plates once he's done with them.

Techincally, he has a dishwasher. In practicality, it's broken and Taiga hs never been around long enough before to bother fixing it and plus, he finds hand-cleaning to be a calming activity. It's a good way to clear his head, and he's not particularly bothered by the extra time it takes.

He wonders if it bothers Kuroko, when he's here alone.

“Do you think we should get a new dishwasher?” asks Taiga after he's done and they're in the living room, watching a basketball game from overseas. Taiga has never played either of these teams and it's fun watching them, trying to imagine what he'd do in their place, what he can learn from them. He might not be actively competing right now, but he's still training, learning, continuing onward; basketball is an inherent, instinctive part of him and always will be, even when he's old and gray and on his death-bed.

Kuroko looks at him, raising his eyebrows. “You didn't care before,” he says, tilting his head and styling Taiga far too intently. Taiga clears his throat, rolling his eyes a little, and Kuroko admits, “But it would be nice, if you're amenable to it.”

“Of course I am,” huffs Taiga. He spreads out a bit wider on the couch, and their thighs touch, they're so close. He gulps, pretends he doesn't clenching his grip on the couch's backrest as he stretches out his arm behind Kuroko, eyeing him out of the corner of his eye to keep track his reaction. It's fine. They're friends! And Taiga is stretching! It's normal! “You need to tell me when you want something, you know,” Taiga huffs, the pit of his stomach fluttering as eh directs his gaze forwards again. “I can't read your mind, idiot,” he adds, and it’s stupidly soft and Kuroko smiles.

“I know,” he says, and it's in a very weighty manner, like Taiga is supposed to read something into it but he doesn't know what and so he simply nods, pleased. Yeah, Kuroko knows, he knows, but Kuroko doesn’t like to take advantage and is simply not used to asserting his space, and so he doesn’t end up announcing his thoughts and opinions about things as much as Taiga would like.

Not about important things, at least—oh, books he likes and dislikes, sure, and he’ll talk Taiga’s ear off about basketball if given the chance (Taiga always gives him the chance) but Kuroko doesn’t talk much about things that affect him. He’ll go “the dishwasher is broken, Kagami-kun” but never say “You should buy a new dishwasher, Kagami-kun” and Taiga is both endeared by it and relentlessly annoyed because he wants Kuroko to take up space in his life, as much as he desires, as he much as he could want. He aches, a bit, for Kuroko to assert his dominance over his place in Taiga’s life, as his best friend, as his partner, and now as his roommate.

Not that he’s going to say that. Because they’re friends and Taiga has been the recipient of many a conversations about his intensity and hogging Kuroko and how he’ll need to back off when Kuroko gets a girlfriend, or how he’s going to change everything when he gets a girlfriend—even though he’s never had one and doesn’t want one, either.

Never has, really.

Kuroko is more than enough for him, and he doesn’t understand why he has to step back so hypothetical future relationships can take the star spot now.

After dinner, it only makes sense for Kuroko to stay the night. He’s officially moving in next week—that’s when the moving truck will come along and let them move the bigger furniture, namely the bookcases—but Kuroko has been moving over smaller things for weeks now. Clothes, cutlery, books, yarn for his knitting that he’s teaching Taiga (they’re making scarves right now, and Taiga fully intends to learn this so he can make one for Kuroko—he’s gotten so many absolutely amazing knitted things from Kuroko over the years, it’s only fair), and there’s really no need for him to return to his temporary motel only to come back to Taiga’s in the morning. He’s got his own toothbrush and everything, after all.

Taiga dithers around the bedroom before he sneaks out and leans against the door-frame to the living room, where Kuroko is lying on his futon. Taiga isn’t sure what he said during dinner, but at one point Kuroko frowned slightly and said, “I’ll sleep in the living room, then,” so he must have done something.

“Tetsuya,” says Taiga, his final weapon. Nothing else has managed to buidge him but now, as he expects, at this Kuroko stills, hitting his knees on the futon and looking at Taiga over his shoulder. The neon lights from the night’s billboards spill in through the window and stains his body, reflecting in his eyes and coloring in his pale skin, a halo behind him. “Come sleep with me,” says Taiga, and he doesn’t allow himself to waver, doesn’t allow his expression to betray his thoughts.

Kuroko exhales. “You don’t know what you mean, Taiga-kun,” says Kuroko, and his weapon is just as deadly. Taiga shivers, a little, and he huffs, pushing off the frame and stepping into the room proper. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at Kuroko, who turns to face him and then Taiga can’t think for a moment—not what Kuroko’s looking at him like that, on his knees, right in front of him on a futon.

It makes him think of things he shouldn’t. They’re friends! It’s not weird to have thoughts like that once in a while, to look at Kuroko when they’re playing basketball and Kuroko wipes his face with the bottom of his shit, displaying his toned stomach. It’s not weird to have dreams that start just like this; with Kuroko on his knees, Taiga looking down at him—or the other way around, Taiga staring up at Kuroko with Kuroko’s hand in his hair, petting him, holding him still, staring his progress towards—

It’s not weird, Taiga thinks. It’s perfectly normal. He’s a healthy man with healthy needs and wants and Kuroko is the person he’s closest to in hte whole world, the person he misses the most when he’s not there, the person he thinks about the most. Statistically, it makes perfect sense his thoughts will sneak that way when he’s aroused, or horny, or whatever.

“I know,” says Taiga, and he brushes his hair back, pushing it back over his head, exhaling softly. He has to look away for a moment, or he’s going to explode, but he looks back quickly enough. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, and he doesn’t know what he did, what he said, but it’s the same either way; he didn’t mean to hurt Kuroko, and he won’t let whatever it was ruin things between them.

Not that this is ruining them; they’re friends, and friends can sleep wherever they want during a sleepover and it isn’t weird. If Kuroko wants to sleep in the living room, of course he can. Taiga wants him to be happy, to have whatever he wants and needs, and he’s not going to argue if Kuroko says he’d sleep out here.

But he never said that.

“Come sleep with me,” he says, and it takes him a long time to realize he didn’t add ‘in my bedroom’ to that. But it’s fnie, because he and Kuroko are in sync and can read each other and know each other. Kuroko understands what he means, he’s sure.

Standing, the motion so smooth that it breaks Taiga’s brain a little, Kuroko rocks on his feet, looking up at him. He’s gotten taller from his teenage-hood but he’s still shorter than Taiga, and Taiga gulps, feels his throat moving with it. “I don’t want to impose,” says Kuroko, softly and eyes wide with emotions Taiga can’t read.

“You could never impose,” swears Taiga. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “I don’t know what I said—”

“You didn’t say anything,” says Kuroko, and looks down. His pale eyelashes burn in Taiga’s mind, and Taiga shakes his head a bit. Kuroko inhales deeply. “It wasn’t anything you said. I know you don’t think so. But it’s been—”

“I don’t care what other people say,” says Taiga. He crosses his arms over his chest and furrows his brows. “And I didn't think you did, either. You've never said anything before.”

“You haven’t, either,” says Kuroko, and Taiga straightens.

“I don’t care,” he says again. He grabs Kuroko’s hand and Kuroko doesn’t tear himself free, even as Taiga leads him over to the bedroom, turning off the lights as he enters. There’s nothing remarkable about it, and the futon in the middle is waiting for him, ready and eager. Taiga doesn’t have a western-style bed here; his last one broke and he just never got around to replacing it. Besides, his futon was a gift from Kuroko, anyway.

The shadows are long and strange from the window and the city lights outside of them. Taiga goes right up to the futon, Kuroko’s warm hand in his, and settles down on it, still holding onto Kuroko’s hand as he looks up at him. Kuroko’s eyes are hidden in the dark above him, and he looks so much bigger form this angle, like he might consume Taiga entirely. Taiga wouldn’t much mind that, anyway. “Tetsuya,” he says, and his voice is far too raspy but he doesn’t even have the presence of mind to mind it, “Sit down.”

Tetsuya sits down.

Taiga inhales, and it cuts his throat on the way down. Licking his lips, his throat bobs as he swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth, and scoots back on the futon. There isn’t, actually, room for Tetusya there, too, but fuck it that’s going to stop him, Taiga thinks, eyelashes fluttering.

Tetsuya doesn’t move, though. Doesn’t take up the space Taiga is offering, and isn’t that so like him? Taiga gulps, again, and he reaches out, draws Tetsuya into a hug because he can’t not. “I want you here, Tetsuya,” he says into Tetsuya’s hair, and Tetsuya shudders in his arms, his breathing making a fumbling sort of noise. “Tell me you know that.”

“I know that,” whispers Tetusya, and it’s Taiga’s turn to shudder. He hides his face in Tetsuya’s shoulder and doesn’t move, even when Tetsuya’s hands land on his back and slowly pats him. He doesn’t know why, but it makes the shuddering worse. “I do know that, Taiga-kun,” says Tetusya, a whisper, a murmur, barely anything at all. “But—”

“No buts,” interrupts Taiga. “You’re the most important person in my life.”

“But—”

“No buts.”

Tetusya pulls back a little, and stares at him. His eyes are dark and deep and Taiga can’t read them but it doesn’t matter; he knows himself, after all. There’s no part of Tetsuya he doesn’t want, no part of him that he doesn’t want to know and understand and love. Theyr’e best friends, of course, but they’re partners, too, and doesn’t that matter more than whatever fears stains Taiga’s dream, that chain him and try to break him?

Tetsuya’s exhale is a soft thing, and his laughter is softer, still. He eyes Taiga, studies him, and Taiga licks his lips, throat parched all of a sudden. Tetusya grips his shoulders, changes positiong so their knees touch. He’s so close he could sit in Taiga’s lap, Taiga thinks. They’ve done that before, when they’re tired and don’t have room to think and they just want to touch, just want to reassure each other they’re still here. It’s always breathtaking, leaves him breathless and unable to believe his luck.

It’s mind-blowing, that Tetsuya is still with him. That Taiga hasn’t done something to push him away; and Taiga isn’t exactly bad at relationships but he’s never been the very best at that, either. Tends to latch on and latch on strong, and this has never really changed, is the same for people and things and activities.

But he still somehow expects to ruin these things. Tetsuya is scuha good person, after all, is good, has give him so much over the years, and Taiga harbors an ill-advised fear that Tetsuya might realize he doesn’t need Taiga and doesn’t want him and simply walk away. After all, they’re not playing basketball together anymore, are apart large parts of the year while Taiga’s working his dream, and it’s always felt kind of cruel to cling onto him, to shackle him and try to keep him.

“No buts,” repeats Tetusya, and palms Taiga’s cheek. “You’re right.” He nods, and Taiga studies shim, tries to see what he’s thinking but Tetsuya has always been inscrutable t o him and that has never changed, his thoughts kept behind a curtain that Taiga has been lucky enough to get invite after invite to over the years and he shouldn’t be greeedy but he still wants more. “Taiga-kun can’t read my mind,” says Tetusya, leaning in and resting their foreheads together, his hand on Taiga’s neck to pull him in him and close and hold him there.

“Right,” says Taiga, and then can’t say anything else, mind blank.

“I don’t want to let you go,” says Tetusya, tehn, and Taiga isn’t aware of anything but the rush of blood in his veins, the rapid thumping of his heart in his ears, pf his breath hitching, and more then anything else of Tetsuya’s warm, steady touch, of his eyes and how they won’t let him look away.

“You don’t have to,” Taiga finally manages to say, shaking his head as best as able. This close, he can see the little flecks of gold in Tetsuya’s eyes. “I don’t want you to.”

“Even if it’s better, for you?”

“It won’t be better for me,” snaps Taiga, and he can’t help the rush of emotions clouding his judgement. It snaps him out of the state of liquid melting and he promptly draws Tetusya up onto his lap and leans back, looking down at him with all his attention set to max. “I’m tired of people telling me that. You make my life better. It would be a thousand times worse without you in it, and you know it.”

Tetsuya blushes. It’s a tiny thing, and yet it draws Taiga’s eyes to it like moth to a flame, and he nearly gasps before he regains control of himself. Tetsuya says, “You make my life better, too. I don’t know what my life would even look like without you in it.”

“So then, what are we worrying about?” asks Taiga, and it’s a genuine question. What are they worrying about? They make each other better, they always have. Taiga doesn’t want to let go, and Tetsuya doesn’t, either. They’re going to live together, and Taiga wants them to do so forever, has been silently praying for this for months if not years, was genuinely shocked when they didn’t move in together after high school ended and never quite recovered.

“I don’t know,” says Tetsuya, and looks at him with so much sudden openness that Taiga can’t breathe. His hands settle on Tetsuya’s back and he holds him closer, still, is determined not to let go, to not be forced to let go, and Tetsuya says, “I don’t know, Taiga-kun.”

“Be selfish, for once,” murmurs Taiga as he stares into Tetsuya’s beautufl eyes, as he feels the slight trembling under his hands, as Tetsuya parts his lips. “You deserve to be selfish. If you—if you want this, too, you can have it, you know.”

Taiga waits, and he doesn’t move, even as Tetsuya freezes, stills in his hands. Tetsuya’s eyes are wide and they reflect the light from the windows, and Taiga’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness, now, allowing him to see the way Tetsuya’s gaze burns, the faint quiver to his nose and lips, the way Tetsuya holds himself so still as to be unnatural.

Taiga waits.

“You’re my best friend,” Taiga says at last, the words punched out him, and he slumps, hugs Tetsuya and whispers into his hair. “You’re my best friend and I can’t imagine my life without you and I don’t want to do anything to push you away. But. If you also—” and yet he can’t finish the sentence.

“If I also what, Taiga-kun?” Tetsuya asks after moments, what feels like a life-time in the space between his breaths. Taiga can’t answer for so long the silence wears on him, but it’s also that wearing that compels words from him at last because if this is how it all ends he’s not going to keep quiet anymore. Not hide it, anymore.

“If you love me, too.” And his was—shattered, maybe. Broken, certainly. Nothing more but a faint whisper in the dark and if not for them being so close he doesn’t think Tetsuya would have even heard it.

But Tetsuya does.

And he says, “I do love you, Taiga-kun.”

And Taiga blacks out.

When he’s aware of the world again, it comes back in pieces. The feeling of Tetsuya in his arms, on his laps, his arms around him and a hand on Taiga’s neck. The sensation as Tetusya breathes, chest rising and falling against him, the way that Tetsuya’s toes are wiggling as he tries to subtly change the way he sits but Taiga has too good a grip on him and he can’t really move. Clearing his throat, the sound ragged, Taiga whispers, “Sorry,” and loosens his grip somewhat, enough for Tetsuya to scoot himself into a position more comfortable.

He doesn’t want Tetsuya to be uncomfortable. Doesn’t want to be the reason Tetsuya’s uncomfortable.

Not ever.

Tetusya huffs a laugh. “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m the one who—” he stops, and Taiga strains his hears, leans back a little so he can look at Tetsuya’s eyes again. He doesn’t want to miss a single part of this, no matter how it ends, how it might hurt him. Tetsuya is everything to him, has been for a long time, and he really—

Can’t imagien his life without him.

Doesn’t even want to try, truthfully.

Taiga gulps, and he shakes his head. “I love you, you know. Whether as friends or as—”

“Lovers.” Tetsuya’s eyes are soft and his smile is the prettiest thing in the world, effortlessly blanking out Taiga’s entire brain again. He makes a strange noise in the pit of his stomach, clenches it tight to hold onto reality and he huffs a bit, bites down on his lip as he forces himself to maintain dignity in the face of overwhelm emotions.

“Yeah.” Taiga licks his lips, and then doesn’t say anything else. Just “Yeah.”

Tetsuya exhales, after a long minute. “Taiga-kun, you’re cruel,” he says apropos nothing, and Taiga furrows his eyebrows. Tetsuya is at least kind enough to add, “You've never said anything.”

Looking away, Taiga sighs. He holds his breath for a minute, lets it sit in aching lungs and then lets it out, inhaling deeply. He doesn't know what to say to explain it, and he isn't much interested in that, anyway. He can't change the past and there's no reason to try; Tetsuya is here, now, is letting Taiga speak of this.

“I didn't—” he still ends up saying, despite his thoughts. Shaking his head, he looks at Tetsuya again, searches his expression, studies him as best as able. Tetsuya is looking at him, open in return, and Taiga wets his lips, clears his throat. “I don't ever want to ruin things between us. You matter more to me than—I just love you, Tetsuya. And I don't want to do anything to push you away.”

“You could never push me away,” says Tetsuya, and frowns. Taiga's heart freezes at the sight, but then Tetrusya runs his hand through Taiga's hair before he has time to panic. Tetsuya sighs, and he says, “I love you, too.”

“So then what are we worrying about?” murmurs Taiga again, still stuck on his. Tilting his head, he smiles at Tetsuya, and his heart warms when Tetsuya returns it. “We're gonna live together. Nobody can tell us what do to; we're adults, and we have our own place. All those comments are comments, and even if they're our friends…” Taiga frowns. “I shouldn't have listened.”

“No,” agrees Tetsuya slowly. “I shouldn't have.”

Taiga looks at Tetusya, and Tetsuya looks at him, and there's no force on this earth that can stop him. “Can I kiss you, Tetsuya?” he asks, voice raspy and hoarse, and he almost winces at how plain his desires must be. But Tetsuya blushes, almost, wetting his lips and nodding slowly, starting at him from below pretty, pale eyelashes.

Leaning in, pulling Tetsuya close, Tetsuya doesn't stop him. His hands are still on Taiga's neck, in his hair, and Taiga shudders as he holds the two of them so close he's not sure where one ends and the other begins, and that's just the way he likes it. He doesn't want to ever let go, and he can't believe how foolish he's been, listening to all that nonsense. Tetsuya is quiet, yeah, but he's stubborn as a mule. And he cares, so intensely.

He won't ever make this mistake again, he thinks.

And kisses Tetsuya.

The noise Tetsuya makes goes right to his dick, but Taiga ignores that entirely; he draws in Tetsuya, holds him still, one hand palming Tetsua's cheek and it's Tetsuya who sets the pace, who controls it, and Taiga is just fine with that. The taste is—heavenly, he thinks, and the feel of the plush lips on his makes his mind go blank. He's not entirely sure what is even happening anymore, but he won't let go of this—not ever, he thinks.

“Sorry, Taiga-kun,” says Tetsuya when the kiss ends and there's still barely any space between them, and Taiga's eyelashes reluctantly flutter open. He gazes silently at him, and Tetsuya murmurs, “I'm selfish.”

“That's fine,” whispers Taiga, and leans in for another kiss.

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#Fandom: MISC - Animanga #Post Type: Fic #Rating: Teen #Status: Complete #Tag: Hurt/Comfort #Tag: Post-Canon #WC: 5000-10000