A/N: Title and detailed prompt courtesy of com801 on tumblr.

Life was all about choices.

Do you turn left here, go right, or stay on the straight path? Confess to the person who occupies your every waking moment, or force yourself to be content just standing at his side as a good friend? Continue on with your dreams of playing in the NBA or just let it all go and take up a life of money and sex and sin?

Kise stared absently into the bottom of his glass, the Macallan '66 Scotch a deep amber only slightly darker than his eyes, and pondered the choices that had led him to this moment in his life.

He'd once seen this sci-fi show about multiple earths, where every decision ever made spawned a different, parallel world. Millions upon millions of earths out there, all piled on top of each other, where all your possible choices, good or bad, existed, changing your life. If that was true, then in another world he was a pro-basketball star, married to Kuroko Tetsuya, with a dog and a cat and two adopted children. He was happy and loved and life was wonderful.

Ah, but not in this world. In this reality, he had confessed to his boyhood love only to be soundly rejected, a blow so deep, so harsh, it had taken him years to recover. He eventually came to his senses, but by then he was lost, with no purpose or direction, only a long string of lovers and one-night stands left behind to prove he had existed at all.

Thoughts of Kuroko only brought a twinge to his heart these days, a nostalgic ache for what might have been, yet he still couldn't fall in love again, the scar left by that rejection too tender to risk slicing it open once more.

Unable to go back to basketball, but needing something to do, he resumed modeling. The one thing he had always excelled at without even trying. Not that he didn't give a 110% when he was on a shoot, it was just the poses and fake looks and sexy, happy smiles came so easy to him. He could mimic any expression, any style he had ever seen.

If only he could mimic happiness as well.

Snorting at his maudlin thoughts, Kise took a swig of his drink, appreciating the warm burn as it slid smoothly down his throat. How did the lyrics to that old American song go, "I can't complain but sometimes I still do?"

Yeah, that was him. He had no reason to complain, not as the international face of Rag & Bone. He'd walked right off the streets into the offices of the popular, expensive designer and suddenly he was the poster boy for their menswear division. He had million dollar houses, not homes, never homes, in four countries, several luxury cars whose names he couldn't even pronounce, and a snap of his fingers could bring almost any woman or man to his bed.

And it was all so fucking boring.

Nothing gave him that thrill, that surge of adrenaline, that high he had experienced when playing ball. It was too late, though, to go back, too late to step onto that golden court again and shine.

The closest he came to feeling … something, anything was at the gambling tables. There, his victory wasn't guaranteed, there his face and fame meant nothing. It was just him and the cards or the dice or the wheel. It was heady, that feeling of not knowing whether he would win or lose, and ever since a young starlet he once dated took him to a casino in Macau, he had been addicted to it.

Another decision that changed the path his life was on, another decision that led him to this place, this table, this moment. He'd just won big in Monte Carlo a few days earlier and was desperate to push those boundaries again, to see if Lady Luck would prove to be a harsh mistress or welcoming lover.

He rather enjoyed the Casino Classica'. More than most of the places he frequented. It had a private, highstakes poke room that was elite, opulent, and completely pretentious, just like him.

A mocking, half-smile tilted his lips. The glittering, big-bosomed brunette across from him apparently thought the smile was for her because she peered coyly at him from beneath conspicuously false lashes and pursed her lips. Kise's smile automatically widened, flashing brilliant white teeth. His eyes, however, were flat and hard.

Taking his smile as an invitation, the woman walked over to him, putting an extra sway in her hips. He knew he could have her upstairs in his room, on her back, in less than five minutes. The thought left him completely cold.

So, he flirted and chatted, keeping up his charming facade but his attention was firmly fixed on the table and the cards in front of him as he told the dealer, "Hit me again."

Aomine was exhausted. After six games away, all he wanted was to eat in his own kitchen, soak in his own tub, and pass out in his own bed. His agent, however, had other ideas.

As the hotshot Power Forward of the Miami Heat, Aomine Daiki was in high demand at the moment. Everyone wanted his endorsement, from soda companies to chain restaurants to cereals and shoes and all manner of athletic wear. He was a big name in the basketball world, and frankly it was killing him.

All he wanted to do was play ball. Just wanted to pit himself against the biggest and best stars on the court, and beat them of course. Jetting here and there, smiling for the cameras and reporters, what the hell did that have to do with basketball? His agent kept telling him that was how you played the game, how you got your name out there and became famous. Fame or notoriety or splashing name across the papers, he didn't give a rat's ass about any of it.

Especially right now, after an eleven game winning streak, the last three against the Sacramento Kings. He should be home, sleeping the sleep of victory, but instead he was stuck here, in Vegas, in some smoky casino waiting for his agent and some schmoozer who wanted him to sign a deal for their shampoo.

Shampoo?! Like he spent a lot of time thinking about his hair. He just grabbed the first bottle on the aisle and went on. It was just hair, for fuck's sake. Who did they think he was, Kise?

He blinked and stopped in his tracks at the wayward thought. Kise, that was a name he hadn't thought about in a long time, not since their spectacular falling out at the end of their senior year.

Aomine wasn't blind. He'd seen the commercials and magazines with Kise's handsome face and golden hair, had heard the rumors of his old teammate's hedonistic lifestyle, but he hadn't sought the other man out, even though they did travel in some of the same circles now. He just … didn't know what to say.

Oh, hey, I know you told me you never wanted to see my fucking, ugly face again, but that was eight years ago. Let's go have lunch.

Riiight, like that would work. Not on Kise, not after he had seen his old friend at his lowest, not when Aomine himself had also been just a tiny bit in love with Kuroko, too.

Why was he even thinking about this? Aomine frowned at himself and hunched his shoulders, ignoring the gasps and smiles and whispers around him. He made his way to the private club room where this asinine meeting was supposed to take place and hoped his agent got diarrhea or something and couldn't come. Yeah, he was just a little vindictive.

There was no smoking allowed in the club area. Aomine took his first, deep breath since entering the casino and relaxed. His dark blue eyes roamed the room without interest. He avoided the inviting smiles and expectant looks of the few people who tried to snag his gaze. It seemed his agent wasn't there yet. With a deep, frustrated sigh, he headed toward the small, discretely placed bar on the right side of the room. Hopefully they would have something with caffeine in it because he was seriously dead on his feet.

Striding forward, he didn't pay attention to his surroundings at all until the crowd in front of him parted. There, with that glossy hair of his shining like a beacon under the twinkling chandeliers, sat the very man he had just been thinking of: Kise Ryouta.

Aomine actually stumbled from the shock. He blinked, sure his eyes were deceiving him, but no, there was the infamous model, smiling his million dollar smile. The men and women at Kise's table were hypnotized by that bright smile, but Aomine was confused. The Kise in his memories was alive, sickeningly popular with just about everyone, passionate, sometimes puppy-like but other times so intense Aomine couldn't look away for a second lest the ball would be stolen right out from under him.

Kise was the first to really push him, to make him think, "Maybe I can't always win." And it had been fun, challenging, exciting. Enough for Aomine to (mostly) ignore how pert and cheerful and annoyingly talkative the guy had been.

This man sitting before that was none of those things. He still dazzled, his attractive looks and charm bewitching his fans just like always as he threw back his head and laughed, but Aomine's ears detected no warmth in it. The sound was far from the tinkling, amused laugh of their youth, when they spent their days playing ball, eating popsicles and ice cream, and sneaking gravure magazines behind Akashi's back.

No, the cold laughter Kise was producing now was more reminiscent of the bitter, hollow laugh he'd had the last time Aomine had seen him, the night Aomine had stormed the blonde's apartment in righteous fury when he's heard Kise had turned down all invitations to play ball in college.

"What do you care, Aominecchi? With me out of the picture, you can have Kurokocchi all to yourself."

Slamming Kise against the door, Aomine had growled in his face, "I don't give a damn about that, Kise! I want to know why you are letting a broken heart rule your life!"

Kise had smiled, an angry, sad, harsh smile.

"Since when did you care about anyone but yourself? Or maybe you are here to console me? Y'know, it was you, first, Aominecchi. Before Kurokocchi, it was you I loved. From the moment I saw you practicing in the gym. Love at first sight, I guess they say."

Stunned, Aomine's fury had deflated like a sagging balloon. Kise had seen his shock and laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound.

"Didn't know that, did you? I wasn't even on your radar, not in basketball, not in romance, not anywhere. But then I had Kurokocchi, so it didn't matter anymore." Kise slumped, the momentary fire in his eyes going out. "Well, I thought I had him, but I guess not."

"Kise, I—," Aomine wasn't sure what he had planned on saying, didn't even know what he could say, and then it was too late.

Angrily knocking his hands away, Kise moved to the side and opened his door.

"Get out, Aominecchi."

His arms had been folded, wrapped around his stomach like he was protecting himself, and maybe he was. Aomine had known Kise was on a precipice, had felt it. If he left, if he walked away right then, Kise would spiral into a darkness that he might never emerge from again.

Kise stared up at him, and whatever he saw in Aomine's eyes, pity, concern, sympathy, it drove him over the edge.

"Get out now! I never want to see your fucking, ugly face again!"

Aomine had never heard Kise scream like that, a scream filled with pain and fury and despair. He wanted to stay, wanted to help like Kuroko and Kagami had helped him when he'd been lost in the darkness, but he never got the chance. Kise shoved him out the door, locking it behind him. He was gone the day after graduation, never answering Aomine's calls or texts, not even answering Kuroko's.

Like all things, the memories and Kise had faded with time, but seeing the other man, seeing those dull eyes and hearing that lifeless laugh, everything came rushing back.

Unconsciously, Aomine's foot took a step forward. Kise chose that moment to look straight ahead. Their gazes clashed, eyes the color of the summer sun locking onto a gaze the deep blue of the midnight sky. He saw the surprise in Kise's face, his mask slipping for just a moment so that the young, merry boy he had been peeked through. His smile was on the verge of actually being happy, actually being real as he half stood, but the memories must have hit him, too.

The smile faded, and his cool, cynical facade resumed. Lifting his drink, he raised it in Aomine's direction before downing it in one gulp. Then, with a clearly dismissive gesture, he turned back to the woman at his side.

Aomine knew he should go to the bar like he had planned, should ignore the model as fabulously as Kise was now ignoring him. He didn't need the hassle, the drama Kise would definitely bring. And yet … and yet, the happy, smiling, bouncing image of the Kise he had known in school wouldn't let him leave. Over the years, thanks to friends and teammates and a few lovers here and there, he had learned to be a little less selfish, a little more caring of those around him. He couldn't just walk away, not this time.

Feet moving before he actually made up his mind, he suddenly found himself at Kise's table. Up close, those golden eyes were even more gorgeous than he remembered, though the listlessness in them kept them from truly glowing.

"Kise," he murmured, and the other man jerked as if he had been struck.

"Aominecchi," Kise gave him that patently false smile again.

In that noisy, crowded den of greed and debauchery, the world shifted on its axis. Aomine's choice creating another path, a path for the both of them. It was the beginning, the beginning of everything. The moment that would eventually lead to Kise living again and Aomine truly falling in love for the first time in his life. They just didn't know it yet.

TBC