From the imagine your OTP prompt "Imagine person A of your OTP kissing person B's scars." and 3am inspiration.


Lines on the Canvas

It's a bit hard to ignore the way Aomine's back instantly tightens with tension at the light touch of his fingers- a bit alarming, really. But he soon relaxes and gets right back into it, kissing his lips, shoulders, earlobes, ribs and that one amazing spot on his neck, and Kuroko can't help but gasp loudly and place his arms around Aomine's back.

It's their first time making love, after countless kisses and millions of regrets more, and Kuroko's relishing it all- Aomine's voice, his skin, the way he says his name and his warmth, from the way he smells to the way his breath quickens whenever Kuroko arcs his back.

Both of them are almost there, right at that moment when he can barely see straight anymore, and the height of their love and passion is pouring through them when he slides his hands down Aomine's broad back, and in turn Aomine tenses again and stops moving. Kuroko doesn't understand why, until he forces himself to concentrate on his fingers, and feels the uneven bumps on dark skin, running through small lines and large ones.

There's dozens of them.

Aomine plays it off like it's nothing, raising himself and shrugging in quick succession, getting back into his clothes in a matter of seconds and not even looking him in the eye- Kuroko believes he has more than a fair amount of reasons to be preoccupied.

He doesn't even bother to get dressed, (too much of a hassle, really- especially since there are far more worrying things than Aomine seeing him naked) doesn't even bother to speak as he rips off Aomine shirt from his back, and the man does nothing to stop it. Just sits there and waits for Kuroko's critical eye as his back curls into nervous constriction.

There's a moment of taut silence between them; Aomine's back towards him, and Kuroko's just staring, staring and searching and looking and trying to understand what lies in front of him. He's seen the other nude far too many times to count- whether they were showering in the stalls in the boy's locker room after a particularly arduous practice or shirtless to escape burning up in the sweltering summer heat, and he's never, ever seen those marks on him before.

They're all around the entirety of his back, deep and shallow, white and faded out and it scares him- some looked like they weren't too recent, but looked too new to be called old. Darting eyes followed the ridges and marks, leading into what he could see of Aomine's ribs and arms, and while much less frequent, he had some of them there, too.

Kuroko puts his hands on the biggest one, running his finger from Aomine's right shoulder blade all the way to the middle of his spine, feeling the bumps his column and the rest of the lines form, stopping at the bottom only to trace it back up, over and over again.

He doesn't understand.

There are so many questions going through his mind. When? How? Who? Where?

Why?

Why?

His boyfriend tenses yet again as Kuroko rests his head on his shoulder, eyes closed as he slowly exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. Kuroko doesn't speak, nor does he move, and waits for his boyfriend to find his voice and explain, because he needs to know. He needs to know the answers to the million and one questions going through his brain, but he won't push, won't push Aomine for answers. And so he lets him set the pace himself.

After one minute and two seconds, Aomine finds his voice. "Tetsu." He begins.

There's a nod from Kuroko's head, signaling the man to continue, but just as soon as he was started, he's at a loss for words again, and the only thing Kuroko does is rub circles with his fingers endlessly on the expanse of his back, only following the patterns the lines make occasionally.

"Tetsu." He repeats.

Kuroko hums as a response.

"Tetsu." There's a desperate tone to his voice, if not indicated by the slight whine in it, it's clear in the way his voice cracks at the end and his pitch gets all screwed up, and it comes out like a torrent of jumbled up words and 'I don't know's.

Things got bad after Kuroko had left, Aomine explains. How he got the scars, how it started with silly skirmishes in the classroom and grew into stupid fights outside the school, how he later started the same stupid fights, joined them and ended them, messed with the wrong people. People he shouldn't have messed with, he admits, but also recognizes that he was so fucked up he couldn't have cared less. He even welcomed it, he says.

His back scars, he begins, are all from being pushed into the ground and against walls and jagged surfaces and rocks and bricks and debris, then he goes on to explain how the deeper lines (six of them, Kuroko counts, and it takes him all of his willpower to not cry for the man, because he apparently lost the ability to do so) are from actual knives- two from students and the rest from those same 'wrong people' he shouldn't have bothered with.

After a moment or two, he then turns around on the bed to face him, slowly gives him his hands, as if he's scared of something- and starts talking again. Albeit his voice is much quieter and solemn, like there's a stone on his back as heavy as the weight of guilt and sorrow is, and that's when Kuroko sees them: the white patches of bumpy skin, lighter than the rest of his hands but not enough so that it's immediately noticeable.

It got progressively worse, Aomine says. He'd suddenly just feel an overwhelming sense of hatred and guilt and hurt and guilt and remorse and regret and guilt, and he'd just go and beat the shit out of the nearest person available, walls if no one was there to bear the onslaught of his grief. Even when his knuckles were bloody and probably broken because screw him if he actually knew how to hold back, and he didn't care if they turned into raw skin and if he could see the blood on the wall and feel the pain over the adrenaline- because he needed to destroy something, even if that something was himself.

He didn't care.

There's a light laugh, cold and filled with loathing. Even if that's what he always says, it was just an excuse to maybe make himself weaker in hopes of finally being able to remember the fun in the passion of his life. But then he laughs again; he was too scared to do it correctly, didn't hate himself enough or perhaps loved the sport too much- Or maybe he just hated the world too much to sacrifice anything to it, (it was their fault after all, they had given up on him, not the other way around) and so he stopped, resorting to emotionally abusing his best friend and teammates instead.

Kuroko has to hug Aomine, because he's trembling, shaking, and it moves his core so deeply just to speak of it, like a twisted kind of PTSD brought onto himself, by himself- it's hard not to.

He goes on and on, and on, and on. Too many scars to count on his own body, his legs, his back, his head, his hips, his feet, even on his neck; (and isn't that a scary thought?) yet he remembered how he got all of them, with excruciatingly painful detail, and hours are spent in the solace of the tiny little room and his own almost inexistent presence to accompany him.

Aomine speaks of all of them, and Kuroko listens closely. Once he starts to remember, he speaks of them as if it's another person's problem - reciting them from memory, mechanically and his tone is empty and hollow, like he's not even present.

Kuroko reacts the only way he thinks he can, because words are too much and too little, and soon, Aomine has his face in his hands, and he's begging Kuroko to stop because he doesn't deserve it.

He pays him no heed and continues as he is, making sure to place his lips on each and every scar Aomine's beautiful body shines, lingering there until the story is over. His lips start hurting after some time, but he doesn't give it any thought and keeps at it, until Aomine decides to speak again and even after that.

Thirty-two scars and lingering kisses later have Aomine facing the wall, Kuroko behind him, observing him- not with pity, but with pride and adoration. The broad back is hunched and Kuroko can see the lines clear as day, and he realizes how terribly in love he is with Aomine all over again.

He's like a beautifully painted canvas- messy and blotchy sometimes, with lines that may seem out of place and colors that form a terrible contrast, but create a beautiful image as a whole. And the scars lining his skin only make him more precious to Kuroko, in a morbid kind of way- because it shows Kuroko just how human Aomine really is.

He's just as human as everyone else, impeccable speed and monstrous strength and all, and as he rests his head on top of the still trembling back again there's really only one thing he can say to him after such an exhausting night for the both of them-

It makes Aomine huff and smile and laugh and maybe even cry a little, but it also makes him the happiest man on Earth, if what he says is to be trusted, and Kuroko reciprocates because his smile is contagious- like a disease would be if he weren't so willing to get it, too.

Aomine takes his hands and kisses them repeatedly, even as they're getting ready to sleep, but not before asking him to repeat his words again and again until he's dreaming, and just for that day Kuroko doesn't have much of an argument.

"I love you."


I like the idea of aggressive Aomine getting into dumbass fights. Isn't cleared up but they're like twenty or so in this.