Okay, so...if any of you know me because of my other fics...I am very sorry for disappearing off the face of the FF world. I got caught up with high school and writing fics for another site, although I would occasionally drop by here to read and review other stories (showing my support and love y'know?). I don't know if I will ever continue on with my fics here, but I am not going to make a solid decision of abandoning them yet. Unfortunately, I did make the decision of deleting my fic Hand in Hand as King and Queen. It had the least amount of chapters and views, so I ended it because I knew I wouldn't be able to spare time for it. Sorry.

On the other hand, I am currently obsessed with Kuroko no Basuke (and some other animes but let's just focus on this one). I had also happened to reread Hana no Mizo Shiru, then suddenly envisioned our beloved Kuroko Tetsuya and Akashi Seijuurou as Misaki Shouta and Arikawa Youichi respectively. It was hard trying to combine the characters into their roles, so it might be a little OOC. Please bear with me, and my writing had gotten rusty lately...

Disclaimer: I do not own KnB or Hana no Mizo Shiru. I do own this fic, though.

Warning: Yaoi (I'm not sure if there's anything else, but I'll tack it on later when I remember.)

A/N: Excuse me for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I'm also a bit confused when inserting Midorima's nodayo/nanodayo catchphrase in here. Otherwise, please read and review!

Posted: 3/13/14

Chapter 1

Flower-Shaped Necklace

Snow-white hands, slender and rather delicate-looking, darted out here and there about the window counter at a methodical pace, reaching out to rearrange ceramic flower pots that contained different type of growing plants. Thin pale fingers pinched a leaf to be closer examined by observant aqua orbs, staring and contemplating with rapt inner focus. The owner of those snow-white hands and lucent aqua eyes released the leaf after making a thoughtful "hmm". Then the person turned around, lifted up a tray-like box, and set it on the counter. Flower pots that hadn't been scooted aside, but rather had been separated from the others, were picked up and promptly stored into the box. The box, now heavy with the weight of about six potted plants, was hauled up by its handles, the side of it slightly resting against the flat stomach of its carrier.

Fweet-fo-foo! Foo-foo-fee! The sounds of merry whistling combined with the alternating tap of footsteps echoed down the tiled hallway lined with doors that belonged to labs and offices. The person whistling the merry tune was a sixty-something-year-old man, his brushed back hair mostly gray that dominated faded brown. He wore a long, white lab coat, which was properly buttoned up with a few pens tucked in its breast pocket, over his suit, and a clipboard was clutched under his arm against his side. He ceased with his whistling and his footsteps when he reached a double-door with the label that read 'Botanical Physiology Research Room' next to it along with its room number. The door, unlike the slidable ones used in the elementary, junior, and high schools, actually had a simple porthole-like window with a lockable latch handle. Knowing that it was already unlocked, the old man turned the handle and stepped inside.

He didn't expect for someone to already be in the lab.

"Oh?" he uttered in mild surprise. His kind, wrinkled face broke into a pleasant smile. "What is this? Someone got here before me?"

A beautiful young male, wearing a white lab coat identical to the old man's yet left unbuttoned, turned around to see who had spoken. The young male had soft teal-colored locks, smooth porcelain skin, and a short, skinny stature. In his arms was a box full of plants that looked too heavy for him to carry alone.

"Good morning, Tsujimura-sensei," the teal-haired student greeted politely, his voice soft and devoid of any emotion that was also reflected on his unreadable face. But the professor had gotten used to his favorite student's lack of expressions and weak presence. He knew there was a fond touch and sense of respect underlining a deadpan tone.

"Morning, Kuroko-kun," Tsujimura said, returning the greeting in a chipper tone as he came closer to his student. "Hm?" He pointed at the load. "You're going to carry them all at once?" he asked.

Kuroko readjusted his grip on the box's handles, the leaves of the plants that stuck out brushing against his lab coat. "Kiyoshi-senpai will only come at sundown today. So I'm moving them while the sun is still up."

Tsujimura laughed lightly in guilt. "Sorry about that—having to move them when we're not even using them."

Kuroko dropped a fond, gentle gaze down to the plants he was carrying and affably said, "It's okay. I don't mind, since I like them."

Huh? Tsujimura leaned down so he could catch the rare display of emotion on Kuroko's face, then straightened up and smiled in understanding.

Realizing that he was being oddly stared at, Kuroko schooled his expression and inquired, "Is something the matter?"

Tsujimura let out an unbashful laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Oh no," he dismissed subtly. "I was just thinking how you suit them so well, and how the flowers must like you, too."

Reo, when I see you again, pray that you run fast because I'm going to sharpen my scissors on you, grumbled a distractingly attractive male with stunning red hair. He fervently rubbed at his left eye that was tightly shut closed, though tears managed to slip free anyways; in comparison, his right eye was perfectly fine, so he was able to see where he was going.

My left eye is rejecting the contact. I expected this, but I didn't think it would be so bothersome, he inwardly sighed with a hint of mournfulness. Exasperated that he was unwillingly crying an excessive amount of tears, he took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his watery eye. He was hardly concerned that passerbyes, many of them college students like him, were shooting him weird, wide-eyed looks, either ogling at his good looks or alarmed with the fact that he was crying in public.

"I should've worn my glasses," he murmured, ceasing with the dabbing and now pressing the handkerchief to his eye. Surrounding him as he strode forward were the large, majestic buildings of the college campus, including the pedicured flowerbeds and neatly paved walkways. For an early spring morning, it was decently sunny out, with a few clouds that didn't swallow up the blue sky, and the temperature was more cool than warm. An enjoyable day, basically.

"Akashi?"

The redhead halted automatically at the sound of his name and glimpsed over his shoulder (with his good eye) to search for the owner of that familiar voice.

A tall, limber male with shocking apple-green hair and black-framed glasses stood a few paces behind him, his body turned sideways as if he had also glanced over his shoulder after stopping midstep.

"Oh? Shintarou, is that you?" Akashi asked in mild astonishment, eyeballing the other male curiously because he hadn't been expecting to cross paths with an old classmate and friend of his.

The green-haired male, Midorima Shintarou, nodded and crossed over to the redhead. Held in his left hand (which was his dominant hand) was a plastic, palm-sized toy frog. As always, his long-tapered fingers were habitually wrapped in white bandages. He wore sophisticated-styled clothing—a long-sleeved beige polo and olive-green khaki pants with a plain leather belt cinched around his narrow waist.

He hasn't changed much, in attire or mannerism, Akashi noted with a minimal quirk of a brow. Even after three years, Midorima looked perpetually annoyed and had his lips drawn into a thin, disapproving line. Not at all.

"You walked right past me," stated Midorima, his tone chiding and forthright without meaning to. "If it hadn't been for your red hair, I wouldn't have noticed it was you, nanodayo." He paused, then added, "And the fact that you were crying—it startled me." He pushed his glasses back on the ridge of his angular nose, though it was entirely unnecessary. "May I ask as to why you're crying?"

Akashi had the feeling that Midorima was shocked to see him, the great and almighty Akashi Seijuurou (as he was revered back in his younger school days), let loose dripping droplets known as tears free from his eyes—well, eye. He chuckled, amused.

"The contact lens in my left eye hurts," explained the redhead. "A friend of mine"—may Reo burn in the pits of hell where he belongs, he inwardly condemned—"suggested trying on contacts instead of dealing with those cumbersome glasses. I regret listening to him, but he was persistent."

"Ah, I remember," Midorima realized. "The vision in your left eye is poor. Has it worsen over the years? Is it still discolored, nodayo?"

"Not to an extensive degree, but sometimes I feel disoriented," Akashi admitted. "And yes, it is still discolored. The contact lens I'm wearing is even a red color; it was meant to hide the gold. But alas, it does not want to cooperate." Shifting the handkerchief aside, he peeked open his stinging eye by a fraction so it could be better seen. Midorima leaned in, but not too close, to examine it. A frown upturned his lips as he spotted angry red lines of irritation.

Meanwhile, the way Akashi was being scrutinized by narrowed, speculative eyes full of concern and focus reminded him of being inspected by a doctor.

"Ah, that reminds me. If I recall, Shintarou is studying to be doctor, yes?" Akashi asked, blinking twice to alleviate the sting.

Broken from his analytical thoughts, Midorima straightened up and nodded the affirmative. "Yes. Is Akashi majoring in business?"

"Law, actually," the redhead corrected.

Midorima seemed taken aback. "I thought you planned to help with your father's business after you graduated, nanodayo?"

Akashi shrugged elegantly, a small, mutinous grin lacing his lips. "No. That was my father's plan. But I, for one, did not wish to submit to his authority and chose something else. Law is a respectable major."

"The law and medical buildings are located in the same direction, nodayo. I will walk with you there."

"Oh? Is Shintarou being a gentleman?"

"You are imagining things." But Midorima kindly waited for Akashi to stride forward first before matching his pace with the shorter male. The redhead patted his pockets, searching for somethi—ah, there it was. He fished out a tiny bottle of eye drops from the pocket of his cardigan and proceeded to squeeze a drop or two into his golden eye, which was concealed by the glistening red of the contact lens. Midorima watched him do so from the corner of his vision, making sure that his reacquainted friend wouldn't bump into somebody or trip over an unsuspecting crack in the ground (though he would never admit it).

"So, is Shintarou still with—pardon me if I am mistaken—Takao Kazunari from high school?" Akashi inquired conversationally, pocketing his handkerchief after he tidily folded it up. His eye wasn't hurting as much as before, but it still felt irritated.

Midorima made a strange, startled sound in the back of his throat. Akashi didn't bother to hide his sly grin at his friend's uncomfortable expression.

"I take that as a yes?"

There was a twitch.

"That's a yes," Akashi hummed, and Midorima was dejected that he had still retained his sadistic, amusing ways. "I am happy that he has not driven you to the point of insanity in the past—what is it now—six years?"

A hoarse cough. "Yes..." Midorima shook his head and decided to redirect the stifling subject to the redhead. "What about you, Akashi? Are you in a steady relationship? The last I heard..."

"If you are thinking of Nijimura-senpai, then don't bother," Akashi inserted firmly. "He and I were never together." The firm volume of his silky voice dropped a pitch as he absently murmured, "And he already has someone special..."

Midorima raised a brow but said nothing.

Then the two of them swiveled around abruptly when they heard a loud clatter of tumbling ceramics and someone going, "Ah!"

"Whoa! I didn't even notice that he was there until he tripped!"

"He must be from the agricultural building... He has all those plants..."

It took a minute for Akashi's left eye to focus as he stared at the scene before him. The bright glare of the sun caused him to squint, but he was able to distinguish a mop of teal and layer of white fabric leaning over a fallen box of potted plants. Dirt was scattered across the walkway. At the start of the noisy mishap, people nearby had been scared out of their wits. But when the initial shock wore off, none of them had the mind to hurry over and lend a hand.

On the other hand, Midorima had identified who had tripped and muttered, "Isn't that...Kuroko, nodayo...?"

That name did not fall deaf to Akashi's ears. That's an uncommon name, he thought. But somehow it sounds familiar...

"Shintarou, you can go on ahead. I'll stay behind and help him clean up."

"Eh?" Midorima jerked out of his skin at the declaration. Akashi dismissed him with a lazy wave and approached the teal-haired individual quietly gathering the messy plants together. "Wait, but—" He huffed when Akashi had already knelt down by Kuroko. "Nevermind. Do whatever you want, nanodayo." Albeit reluctantly, the tall, green-haired male turned heel and sauntered off.

"Hey, are you okay?" Akashi asked the petite, teal-haired male who hadn't bothered raising his chin to acknowledge him. That annoyed the redhead, but he didn't pursue it. Besides, he was too distracted by the encounter of glossy cyan hair. He has an extraordinary hair color. If Atsushi was here, he would comment how it looks like cotton candy.

There was a curt response. A nod.

"You shouldn't be carrying so much by yourself," Akashi advised, not minding that he was dirtying his hands as he scooped up some soil back into a pot. He could wash his hands later. "Is it really okay for you to be doing this alone?"

"..."

He's not much of a talker, is he? Akashi observed. While cleaning up and storing the plants back into the box, something shiny caught his attention. Glancing up, he realized that the origin of the shine came from a glinting necklace that hung freely from an exposed, milky neck. A necklace that had gotten loose of its confinements under a creamy V-neck shirt when the owner of it bent over a little bit too far. The elaborate design of the pendant resembled a flower.

And Akashi found himself intrigued by it.

"Is that...a girl's necklace?"

From under a fringe of teal, flustered aqua orbs flickered his way then away. Kuroko wordlessly tucked the necklace back under his collar and resumed picking up the last of the fallen plants, but at a faster pace, his head still ducked.

"It suits you," Akashi commented, without a judgmental or teasing lilt to his voice. Confused aqua orbs peered his way, and Akashi clarified himself, "Whether it's masculine or feminine...anything's fine as long as it suits you, is what I meant."

Those words echoed in Kuroko's head, but in a different voice and at a different time.

"You don't like it? But it suits you so well."

"There, that's the last of it." Akashi's velvety voice snapped Kuroko out of his flashback. They both stood up from their crouched positions, the plant-filled box hefted up by Kuroko. Akashi smiled pleasantly, ignoring how his left eye was watering up again from irritation. Kuroko stared at him, his face unmoving, but his eyes expressing more from within. Right now, they conveyed how puzzled he was. Akashi raised a soil-sullied hand and used his wrist to rub at his prickling eye.

"I'm glad that the flowers appear undamaged," he said, maintaining his civil countenance. Even when he appeared physically discomposed, he maintained an air of surety and ease. Somehow it fascinated Kuroko, including the blazing fire that was Akashi's hair and how deep and bloody the iris of his visible eye was.

Who is this person?

"I'll be taking my leave now," Akashi informed the silent Kuroko. He bowed his head in farewell and turned heel to amble off.

"A-ah! Wait!"

Akashi halted at the feeble exclamation. He glanced behind him to see Kuroko hesitating in place. The teal-haired male, feeling flustered again, floundered with what he wanted to say. Finally, he mustered a polite and honest, "Thank you..."

Akashi inclined his head in acknowledgment, then resumed with sauntering off in the direction he had taken. In the opposite direction, Kuroko also walked away, clutching a hefty box closer to his chest. A tiny, pleased smile penetrated an impassive mask.

Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt!

Kiyoshi leaned back against the cushion of his rolling chair and lolled his head over the top of it. He blinked at the upside down view of his underclassman's diminutive back.

Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt!

"Um...are you going to answer that, Kuroko-kun?" Kiyoshi asked, his head still tipped over. He was used to the teal-haired male's tendency to zone out, so it was more than often when he had to reel the younger one back into reality by saying his name or by tapping his shoulder.

For the past hour, Kuroko had spent it silently daydreaming to himself, hunched over his work table as he absentmindedly twirled a pencil between his thin fingers. The lighthearted bass of Kiyoshi's voice popped him out of his reverie, and he sweat dropped when the urgent rumbling of his handphone reached his ears. "Oh." He set down his pencil and dug through the dark recess of his shoulder bag until his fingers curled around a vibrating device. He took it out, flipped it open, and read the screen.

Bzzzzzt! Bzzz—!

Kuroko had effectively silenced the buzzing midway with a press of a button. His eyes darkened when he saw the five missed calls from a person by the name of Mayuzumi Chihiro. He closed the mobile and squeezed it tightly.

"Kiyoshi-senpai"—the tall, burly college senior perked up at his name—"I need to step out for a moment. Please excuse me."

"Yeah, sure. Go on ahead," was the cheerful response.

Kiyoshi watched with a puzzled knit between his bushy brows when Kuroko nearly rushed out of the lab room, nearby papers fluttering distressfully in his wake.

Alone outside in the dimly-lit hallway, Kuroko leaned against the wall as if for support and blankly stared at the rectangular device in his hand. After a second of waiting, it began to rumble again. Kuroko was quick to press the green button, then brought it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"How come it took so long for you to pick up the phone?" the person calling him demanded in a peeved tone.

"Sorry, I was in the lab working..."

There was an annoyed sigh. "I'm coming to pick you up, so get your stuff ready. It's already past nine."

"Mayuzumi-kun..." Kuroko exhaled a soft breath to steady himself before continuing, "There's still a lot of research to be done... And if I leave now, then there will only be one person left working on it..." When there was no response, Kuroko hesitantly added, "You can pick me up tomorrow night..."

"You sure talk too much," the person drawled. "But no, you cannot stay any longer. You're coming home, now."

Kuroko pursed his lips before conceding reluctantly, "Fine, but I'm taking the train."

"...Alright. Will you be okay alone?"

A shred of relief unraveled the nervous coils that twisted in Kuroko's stomach. "Yes," he exhaled. "I'll be fine."

"I'll see you soon." Click!

A dragged out sigh expelled from Kuroko's lips as he closed his phone and slipped it into his pants pocket. Not eager to face the man who awaited his arrival home, he slowly made his way back into the lab room. The room itself was cluttered with plants in containers, bookshelves stocked with different publications, boxes shoved in available storage space, and tables strewn with papers and pencils. Though a wild mess, it was a cozy, warm place to be.

Kiyoshi greeted Kuroko when he returned, but feigned a pout when the teal-haired male said he had to go home. Kuroko draped his jacket over his arm and shouldered his messenger bag. His kindhearted upperclassmen waved at him goodbye when he bade farewell. He exited the room quietly.

It was raining outside.

"Departure for Track Three..."

At the train station's public restroom for men, Akashi distantly heard the intercom announcing the arrivals and departures of trains, but paid no mind to it as he snapped closed the small, liquid-filled container that accommodated his contact lenses.

"It didn't work as spectacularly as Reo envisioned it to be..." the redhead murmured dryly to himself. "They were expensive too, but I am not quite suited for wearing them." He leaned forward on the sink counter and peered at his reflection in the mirror intently. Heterochromatic eyes, one a crimson red and the other a molten gold, returned his seeking gaze. "Sadly, the glasses I have at home aren't strong enough to improve my vision either," he mused forlornly. "It seems that I no choice but to visit the optometrist again..."

"The train for Track Seven is approaching," announced the intercom, and Akashi lifted his chin to listen. "This train will be at door number six."

Akashi sighed. "Time for me to get going, then."

With the handle of his umbrella hooked to his arm and his coat gripped in one hand, Akashi was trying to zip up his messenger bag while hurrying down the passageways of the train station. Attention divided, his reaction was delayed when, from out of nowhere, a streak of teal zipped by from down an intersecting corridor.

SMACK!

They knocked into each other. Items from their unzipped bags flew out. They landed as a heap on to the hard ground. People saw what happened in bewilderment but made no move to help.

There was a dull ache on the side of his head, and Akashi rubbed at it. "Ouch..." The sound of harsh breathing from a dim presence hovering in front of him captured his attention. "Excuse me, but you should really watch where you're going..."

Due to bumping his head combined with his already blurry vision and the yellow lighting of the premises, Akashi could barely see who he had collided with. All he really saw was the contour outlines of a petite body and a few notable features like a nose and a mouth. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a splotch of a blue-white color. The person's clothes, perhaps? Or maybe it was their hair?

Having sprinted from the college to the train station through the pouring rain, Kuroko was dripping wet and panting from exertion. But then his breathing stuttered and hitched when he recognized the person he had practically fallen on top of. He's the red-haired guy from this morning!

Akashi's hand rested on something that had a flat cover and spiraled spine. A notebook. "Look at what you did," he griped. "Our stuff got mixed up. I can't see well. Which of these are mine...?" He made a disgruntled sound that clearly conveyed his exasperation.

Two pale hands darted out and hastily picked up the scattered items. "Let me do it," Kuroko huffed tiredly. He speedily sorted through the things, storing away what was his and handing over things that weren't. Although a bit confused, Akashi wordlessly matched the smaller male's frantic pace, satisfied that the person at least had the manners to help clean up the mess that he'd made.

"Kuroko!"

The teal-haired male sharply jerked his head up at that voice. He grew paler beneath the white sheet that was his skin. Akashi also glanced up, but with interest and recognition. Kuroko? As in that pretty male who had tripped earlier this morning?

Tap, tap, tap, tap! Impatient footsteps bounded over their way, which only made Kuroko panic.

"Sorry," Kuroko blurted out as he pressed the final bit of paperwork into Akashi's hands. Items finally collected to the correct owner, he slung his bag over his shoulder and quickly shot to his feet. He rushed over to meet up with the person who was seeking him out.

He's gone, thought Akashi, still kneeling on the ground. He glanced down at his hand and clenched it into a fist. His hands were cold.

Night had fully fallen, coaxing the city into a slower, subdued state of rest.

There were distinctive noises resounding outside of Akashi's modest condo. The tread of tires on asphalt. The singing of nocturnal insects. The whoosh of the night breeze. The neighbor's outdoor wind chimes jingled.

Akashi laid curled up on his queen-sized bed, but on top of the silky covers instead of being properly tucked in. His head was pillowed on his lean arms, and he was still wearing his now-wrinkled day clothes. A pair of glasses rested askew on the ridge of his sculpted nose, and locks of his tousled, fiery-red hair was fanned out across his smooth forehead.

Throughout the night, Akashi dreamt of a flower-shaped necklace that he had coincidentally picked up at the train station, having found it forsaken by his shoe after the person who had crashed into him left as if the devil had been nipping at his heels.

"A flower...? How pretty. It's like glass...but it's not..."

Then, upon bringing it under closer inspection, he discovered something off.

"Hm? Part of the gem got fractured."

As Akashi pinched the delicately-designed pendant between his fingers, he imagined its silver chain encircled around the owner's neck. The image of the necklace's owner wasn't whole—his face washed out by a glare of white—but Akashi had a strong feeling he knew who it belonged to. A sense of familiarity connected Akashi to the piece of jewelry.

"A flower-shaped necklace..."

The incessant beeping of his alarm clock jolted Akashi awake.

Long, rosy lashes fluttered as heterochromatic eyes cracked open to rejoin the land of reality. Akashi groaned and propped himself up on his elbows. His biceps were numb from being slept on, and he felt a chill travel down his spine. From under his glasses, he rubbed at his drowsy eyes and yawned.

It's already eight o' clock in the morning...?

Throwing his legs off the side of the bed, Akashi slipped his bare feet into a pair of slippers and trudged into his bathroom. In there, he languidly took his time as he relaxed under a hot shower and then brushed his teeth. Done with his bathroom rituals, he padded out of the restroom and crossed over to his closest. Sweeping a hand through a row of shirts, Akashi deliberated what he wanted to change into. Then again, whatever he selected, it always ended up being the same type of outfit when assembled together. Countless of times when they shopped together, Reo would complain and badger at him to 'spice up his wardrobe'.

But the answer would always be a pair of threatening scissors ready to be sharpened.

Akashi had just finished buttoning up his shirt when the delicious aroma of coffee and cooked food infiltrated his nostrils.

Speaking of Reo...

Akashi leisurely glided down the hallway then leaned against the corridor wall. Across the living room area was the kitchen where he spotted a slender, effeminate male flitting about the stove wearing a pink apron.

Akashi sighed and made his regal presence known with a simple and chiding, "I told you that the key was for emergencies only."

"Huh?" Reo twirled around, a spatula in hand and his bangs clipped away from his feminine face. He grinned teasingly. "Was it? I don't recall you saying that."

Akashi coolly ambled over to the glossy black dining table and took a seat. A stack of newspapers had been tossed on the table. He picked up a tabloid and flipped through the pages casually.

"I knew you would abuse your privileges, then falsely claim that you 'didn't know it wasn't allowed'," the redhead remarked. "So, in preparation, I had it recorded when I informed you of the rules." He smirked when Reo pouted grumpily, brandishing the spatula at the younger male as if it was a sword.

"Sei-kun is a meanie! If I didn't 'abuse my privileges'—"

"Sneaking into my home unannounced."

"—then Sei-kun wouldn't be eating a yummy, homemade breakfast cooked by me!"

Akashi pretended to ponder about the pros and cons without looking up from his newspaper. "That will be acceptable—for now," he inserted quickly when Reo beamed in smug triumph.

Reo happily returned to his cooking, humming a playful tune as he doled out the food into the proper plate or bowl. Then he carried the Japanese-styled meal meant for two over to the table using a tray. The raven-haired male poured a mug of hot coffee—sweetened with sugar and cream—for himself while Akashi was content with his cup of steaming tea. After a chorus of "thank you for the meal", they began to eat.

"Hey, Sei-kun?"

"Hm?"

"Who's Kuroko?"

Akashi glanced up from his food, taken aback when Reo uttered that name. Puzzlement etched across the delicate contours of Reo's face as he witnessed the coolly collected Akashi Seijuurou lose his verb. "I—that—" The redhead cleared his throat and eyed his eating companion suspiciously. "Just where did you hear that name?"

Reo pretended to look innocent, poking at his rice with his chopsticks. "I may or may have not snuck into your room...and heard you say that in your sleep."

Akashi's brow twitched dangerously. "Pray tell, why were you in my room in the first place?"

A vivid vision of his grave penetrated Reo's thoughts, telling him that he would be seeing it very soon. Hopefully someone with a tiny degree of sympathy would leave some flowers. He laughed nervously. It was too late to lie. "You see...I wanted to wake you up, so you'd know that I was here...and to also ask you about that girly necklace that's lying on the counter."

"A necklace?" Akashi felt a rushing wave flood over him. "On the counter?"

Reo opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when Akashi—in one smooth move—pushed his chair back and stood up. Thankfully, since he was wearing his glasses, he easily spotted the mentioned piece of jewelry laying innocently on the kitchen counter. Apparently he had left it there yesterday when he'd returned home, but then later forgot about it after he had dozed off. It was ironic that he had a dream about it, but couldn't remember where he had misplaced it.

He picked it up and rubbed his thumb over the fractured gem. That nagging feeling was back—the one that said he knew who the necklace belonged to, but every time he tried to remember who, he drew up a blank.

Why does something so insignificant bother me so much?

"Nevermind about me and my questions," Reo mumbled meekly, catching the distant look that overtook Akashi's handsome face. The redhead gripped the necklace tighter in his hand.

Pools of aqua, withdrawn and conflicted, stared blankly at the bathroom mirror. A pale-white hand slowly reached up in order for the pads of thin, dainty fingers to gently ghost over the pink line that bruised an exposed throat. The person swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbed. He rested his cold palm against his bared neck and casted his gaze downward, away from his reflection. He couldn't stand seeing the pitiful, lost sight of himself.

He had lost his necklace, something he had cherished at first, then grew to hate. Yesterday, when he had returned home and belatedly realized that nothing adorned his throat, he had panicked and frantically searched through his things. He had upended his bag and turned his clothes inside out.

Nothing.

He couldn't find it. That necklace.

And Kuroko wasn't sure that he was glad that he couldn't.

Please R&R! Until then, please stay tuned!