Title: BFFs.
SYNdicate 930.
AU. Feelings get in the way of everything. Especially when you're BFFs, or Best Fuck Friends. And when Kaijou is subject to damage after a thunderstorm one night, things begin to heat up as Kise transfers to Touou. AoKise. YAOI.

Note: Un-beta'd, slightly drunk. Enjoy chapter 9, kinda?

Chapter 9 – One Week Later



[Aho, Saturday, 23:49] where did you go? you can't be mad at me you were the one being unreasonable

[Aho, Sunday, 00:27] i'm the best fuck you've ever had and will have how long can you stay mad at me especially after all we've done together

[Aho, Sunday, 00:32] if still wanna mess around after you've calmed down just text or call me you know i'll always be in the mood

Kise's memories of the night were poor, and he could not for the life of him remember a thing after having met and talked with Kagami. Words he cannot recall were said and he awoke in the living room of his apartment suite, his throat dry and sore, voice raspy, with the redhead's number on his phone and the taste of alcohol still potent on his dry lips. He wasn't ready to think about it. It hurt to remember, so he forced all train of thought to halt in an instant. Alone Saturday morning with his head aching and the nauseous feeling of bile rising upward in his dry throat, Kise, with an unfamiliar sweater over his pale shoulders, found himself in an outfit different from the one he remembered wearing to the party as he inhaled the scent of foreign cologne that laced the black, white, and red fabric that encased him.

In place of his shirt was the cold sting of the morning air against his sensitive skin, faint goose bumps lining his upper arms, the hairs on the back of his neck standing tall and proud as he looked over to his legs. Bare. His legs were bare, save for his boxers. Now, he remembers putting those on, but not the removal of everything else. Kise hadn't the faintest clue as to how he fell asleep like this, or how he had made it home during the night, but he couldn't find it in him to worry. Or, at the moment, feel anything more than the dull throb of his heavy heart within his chest.

Glancing over from the window, whose curtains were drawn, inviting a harsh light that burned his weary eyes, he could see the neighborhood below and the familiar shapes the trees, houses, and light posts made as the rising sun blurred their fine images. Birds flew across the warm skyline to a destination unknown to Kise, but he decided that anywhere was better than here, sitting by himself, sick to his stomach, with a whole in his fragile heart. He remembered it clearly now, the other night and the events that had unfolded in Momoi's guest room, the way they swayed together, the way fingers dug into skin, the unequal surge of pleasure, pain, immeasurable lust that had him writhing, and the distant way Aomine turned his back and left; so clearly, almost better than the back of his pretty hand, and the way it had torn at his insides.

"G'morning," The voice came from behind, somewhere he reckoned in the general direction of the kitchen, where he could faintly hear the noises of eggs frying and the toaster's alarming ringing loudly. Looking over his shoulder with his golden eyes in sleepy slits, fumbling around for his phone on the coffee table in front of him, Kagami stood in his kitchen with a white apron and hand on a pan of fried eggs and cooked bacon. "How're you feeling?"

Kise walked over absently, and sat at the table in silence, staring contemplatively at the abstract orange vase in the center of the table that had been given to him as a gift months prior, an unknown fixation keeping his tired irises focused and unwavering, his shoulders tensing in surprise as Kagami placed a clean plate of eggs and bacon with slices of buttered toast nearly on the side. A medium glass of cold orange juice found its way to left of his dish, and Kise tilted his head.

"This isn't the typical Japanese breakfast, I know, but I got by making this for myself every morning in America. Hopefully you don't mind. It's still as good as breakfast here. Go on, try it." He had heard from Kuroko and others the boy had lived in America for a long time before ending up here. The details of Kagami's past were not of current importance, so he nodded, using the cutlery left on the table for him to slice the egg, breaking the yellow yoke in the middle and letting it run over the white portion of the egg as the redhead tidied up the kitchen. There was a sleek dish washer by the sink that had came with the apartment complex, but Kagami seemed to prefer washing everything by hand himself for one reason or another.

They settled into silence comfortably, Kise unable to pry himself from his place at the kitchen table as he eyed wondrously at the broadness of Kagami's shoulders and sturdy frame of his back as he placed a wet dish into the metal rack on the right, his phone lying on the kitchen table lifelessly, leaning his sore back into his chair, pressing his rear into the comfortable cushion, biting his lip questionably.

There was something comfortably familiar about the redhead; the brashness of his movements and carelessness of his posture, standing with his shoulders relaxed and his feet near-shoulder-width apart, toes pointed outward confidently, reminiscent of Aomine, but with a modest warmth the latter had always lacked. When Kagami was finished, he turned to reclaim his seat across from Kise, whose irises, a yellow of extraordinarily alluring vigor, appeared uncharacteristically lackluster, gold coins having decayed and morphed into dull copper, that turned their attention from the over saturated-orange of the table ornament to the medium-sized glass placed to the right of two white and blue tablets.

"I don't need painkillers, I'm fine. My head hurts, but not too much. Besides, I heard that having Tylenol while hangover is bad for the liver," said Kise, the sing-song nature of his speech having gone from major to minor, in a strained tone. He wasn't quite feeling it today. His body ached, his stomach feeling as if his stomach acid and alcohol had eroded his insides completely, as if he were toxic.

Kagami nodded, and pushed the glass closer towards him, "That doesn't mean you can't drink some water, does it? I don't know much about drinking or hangovers, but from what I've heard, drinking water is supposed to be good for you."

He does as he's told, taking long sips of the cool water, suddenly noticing the dry lump in his throat. "Didn't realize how thirsty I actually am. Thank you." Several large gulps later, and all that sat in the glass were two half-melted cubes of ice. Even when plagued with a hangover, there was a chic air to him as he leaned comfortably against the back of his chair, one leg crossed over the other sophisticatedly, the dark bags under his lifeless eyes, striking against their fair backdrop, and the aversive mien, alien to his customary optimism, looked to be something Kagami would have imagined to be in a magazine.

"No problem." Replied Kagami. Kise cleared his throat following a lengthy pause.

"Anyway," He started, mustering up what little spirit he had left, somehow finding it in him to generate a smile that stretched from ear to ear, but lacked all traces of sincerity. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you—I don't remember much from the other night but, by the looks of it, I guess you're the reason I made it home safely. I really appreciate it."

"You were pretty out of it. Not to mention some of the guys at the party didn't look all too trustworthy the other night, so I had to take responsibility the moment I bumped into you. When we got here, you were mumbling and saying all these things and stumbling around, so I figured I'd stick around." Kagami caught the concern that crossed Kise's face as he looked down at his lack of clothing. "Don't worry. We didn't do anything inappropriate. We sat around and watched TV until we both fell asleep. You had your clothes on then. I guess you must've woken up and taken them off because you were feeling hot."

"And this?" Kise tugged on the material of Kagami's jacket.

"You looked cold when you woke up."

Kise chuckled. "I had heard from Kurokocchi that you're a nice guy and all, but don't you think all of this—" He made motions with his hands, as if to refer to the breakfast that had used to be, "—is a bit much? You didn't have to stay the night or make me breakfast or anything, you know."

"I know, but I was worried, I guess. A lot happened last night."

"Really? If only I could remember it," Kise said in light-hearted regret, grinning generically. "You didn't drink, did you? What happened the other night, do you remember? Do you know anything?"

Kagami swallowed, eying the boy's mobile. "Yeah. I know a lot."


Aomine woke up in an undignified sprawl on his living room couch, still in the night's sweat and alcohol drenched shirt and rumpled jeans Sunday afternoon, with a deep frown. His parents weren't home, though it was not as though they paid their only child many visits or spent much time with him. The house was a place where they would occasionally rest their head, while the office, hotel, and airplanes were home. But that never bothered Aomine; they would left him weekly allowances for food and cash to spend if he wanted to buy something, and paid for the bills and other expenses parents normally covered. He liked the sense of independence and silence, being able to do what he wants, who he wants, whenever he wants—it was the perfect way to live for a reckless young man like him.

He heard his cellphone ringing, but could not find the mobile to save his life, checking between the cushions of his couch, and then palming the pockets of his jeans and then hoodie to no avail as he groans. Carefully, he stilled his movements, staring around his living room with the knowledge that it must have been close by, following the short melody and shake of its vibration, getting down on his knees to find it hiding between the space of the wooden floor and bottom of the worn-out couch.

"'Mornin'," Aomine greeted through a wide yawn, falling back onto his couch with an impolite slouch. There was no answer. He pulled the phone away from his ear to find the call had ended, but did not bother to see who it was from. Must have been a wrong number, he guessed, deleting the call and its history before reading the familiar, sunny kanji.


[Aho, Tuesday, 18:09] it's been almost five days and you've done nothing but ignore me at school and my calls are you seriously still mad at me?

It had taken him a few seconds to remember he'd renamed the teen while he'd been drunk. Though, it's rather fitting, he thinks.

As if upon reflex, his thumbs flew across the keyboard of his sleek touch screen, heart thumping in his ears.

[Pretty Boy, Tuesday, 18:10] Yeah Aominecchi was being mean of course I'd be mad baka!

The break between texts was enough to drive him insane.

He has him waiting on his every word; keeping him on his breaking toes.

[Aho, Tuesday, 18:15] don't be like that. i know you miss having me around and fooling around don't say that you don't

He stood up to pace around his empty living room.

He felt anxious, hands running through his hair as if to sooth himself.

Kise placed his phone, face down, against the surface of his expensive coffee table, the clear glass emphasizing the vibration of a follow up text he let slip under his radar as he engrossed himself in some television to help ease his racing mind.

[Aho, Tuesday, 18:17] listen, i'll be over in a bit ok? don't go out anywhere i won't take long well see if you're still like this when i get over there

A quarter to seven o'clock in the evening, he received a knock at his apartment door.

"Ne, pretty boy, you still in there? Let me in."

Kise gulped, his limbs betraying his frantic thoughts as his clammy palms hover over the icy doorknob.


How had it turned out like this? Staring across the wiped-down mahogany of the circular café table, its location alongside a broad window that replaced a duplicate cream-colored wall adjacent to the surface to Kise's left where a pair of girls sat, each with a humdrum mug of prim alabaster. He shifted ineptly, his spine stiff and shoulders rigid like bricks. He averted the golds of his large eyes in discomfort. The abnormally staunch gaze of Kagami's hues delivered the impression of enthralled observation, the young scientist dazed by some grand discovery. Despite having dispatched the harmless suggestion of having a small chat—the subject having yet to reveal itself, Kise's plump lips in a straight line with his mouth arid—he had yet to utter even the simplest of greetings.

The wordlessness of their pointed, airy stares was suffocating. If only Kagami would speak up and get this over with. It is not until Kise cleared his barren throat that Kagami seemed to realize the present situation. "Sorry. Uhm, thanks for coming."

"No problem." Kise felt awkward, but offered a humble grin. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Nothing much," Kagami shrugged. "I just wanted to check up on you, I guess."

"If this is about the party last week, I'm fine." He stated with ease, leaving not even the slightest suggestion of woe, the corners of his youthful eyes scrunching up to mimic genuine elation.

After swapping phone numbers after breakfast, Kise had found himself exchanging short, casual text messages on a daily basis. Truthfully, it was a tad uncomfortable. Kise was not very fond of small talk despite his skill with words and interaction with others he'd learned since starting his career as a model. In every person's life, Kise was sure there was at least one day where he or she wished for nothing more than to be alone, even if only for a day. And presently, seven days after Momoi's party, every day seemed to feel like that; filled with the desire to be cut off from others and rest peacefully in frigid isolation.

"You don't seem fine."

"Excuse me?" Kagami caught him off guard, Kise sputtering in response.

"I don't know—you just seem a little down, is all." Kagami spoke with wondrous uncertainty. "It might just be me, but I get the feeling that something's wrong—"

"Thank you for your concern, but everything is fine. So I got drunk and made some mistakes, everybody makes mistakes, right?" He tried to reason. "It isn't as though anything in my life has changed due to a few drinks and sudden lapse of judgement."

"That's what I've been wondering about. You say nothing has changed, so, does that mean…"


"I can tell nothing's changed. You're still seeing him, aren't you, even after all that happened during the party? If not a lot, I know you have once since. I can tell. I heard him, Kise, and all the cruel things he'd said to you while I was upstairs using the bathroom." Kagami admitted, watching with worried eyes as Kise's expression dropped. He was walking through dangerous territory now. "Not to mention, I saw that you had received a bunch of calls and texts from some number when I brought you over to my place to rest and looked into them—"

"Wait, are you saying you looked through my phone—?"

"I was curious to see what I'd witness. I could hear you guys through the bathroom door across the hall, your scarf left on the floor in the hallway…" He trailed off. "I called the number after reading the text, and everything seemed to make sense. Sorta. But I don't understand one thing; If he's so bad to you and uses you only for your body, why do you stick with him?"

Kise paused briefly. A young man dressed in a prim pearl shirt tucked into stark black slacks, his dyed hair ruffled in a stylish manner, eyes smiling, offered to take their orders. Kagami stalled for a more time, with the request for a few more minutes to look over their untouched menus. "You wouldn't understand." The model finally answered after the youthful waiter turned to check up on the other patrons.

"I guess. But I can always try, you know."

"Is this why you've been checking up on me and texting me every day since Sunday?"

"I'm worried, I guess."

"But we don't know each other. It's useless to be so concerned over me like this, right? It's silly."

"But I don't have to know you to want to help you." He yawned. "Besides, why are you settling for him? You're a model and the ace of your old basketball team when you went to Kaijou, you obviously deserve much better."

"Oh? 'Better', eh?" His voice was almost bitter, the inflection in his cadence wielding a dangerous dagger in its troubled, shaking hands. With averted eyes, he repressed a snort. "Like who? You?"

"Maybe." Kise's eyes flicked upward to eye the boy sternly. "If you'd be willing to give me a shot, that is. Kuroko and the others say I'm not the best with words, but I can appreciate you for your mind—something you and I know he hasn't been able to do. Besides, flowers are meant to be cared for, not deprived of sunlight and water."

"That's so cheesy." But it was to enough lighten his mood.

"I did say I'm not the best with words. I-It's kind of uncomfortable to ask, but, what do you think?" He inquired, an abnormal bashfulness to his tone. Through defeated eyes, Kise sized him up thoughtfully.