A/N: First AoKise fanfic of my life. I used to be a firm believer in KurokoXEverybody until I read so very compelling fanfictions that converted me to ship these two (a few changes in shipping have also occurred with it). This writing is inspired by a few debates about life and morality that I have witnessed firsthand.

Sorry if Aomine and/or Kise becomes too OOC. I needed to tweak them to fit this story. By the way, Aomine here is 29 or 30-ish while Kise is 27.

This is a long oneshot so please bear with me and I hope you guys like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warning: Kids, do not talk to strangers about your personal struggle unless you're absolutely sure they will not take advantage of you or use your words against you.

Pairing: Implied AoKise.

Rating: T for Aomine's vulgarity and some themes that are not for kids—and for (my) safety. Do not sue me. No suing, please.

Summary: A blonde in an internal struggle. A barista who found himself somehow trying to guide him through it. Coffee and pastry; a conversation about right and wrong; and life as it is. It is amazing to see that we find a mirror only in common ground.

Disclaimer: For the life of me, I do not own Kuroko no Basuke.

Let's Talk About Life and Love Over a Cup of Coffee

A lone building stood on the lot where the road branches into two. It was a modern type of architecture: an open area with a few benches and tables, lush green leaves of vines tangled serving as a roof; the building beside it was square-shaped, painted with cream and chocolate brown; the tiled floor inside and outside were a checkered brown and white. The glass door and ceiling-to-floor glass windows made it possible to look inside. More tables identical to the ones outside, couches, love seats, and chairs arranged around the marble counter tucked at the far right corner of the building. The cash register and food display kiosk were there, along with the menu plastered above it and a few decorative objects. Different slices of cake and pastry were kept inside the kiosk, almost sparkling under the yellow light.

Under normal circumstances, the café closed at ten in the evening; but tonight was not a normal night. It was one of those cafés that does not fully close until there was a customer seeking shelter in the night, a cozy ambiance coupled with good music and food. Tonight there was a lone customer; so despite the circular sign on the glass door saying (Sorry We Are) 'Closed', and the grandfather clock to the far right corner informing the onlooker that it was nearing midnight, they did not turn off their lights to retire for the night.

Under normal circumstances, also, there should be at least two people left should a customer decide to stay late: the manager and the barista; but once again we are reminded that tonight was not a normal night. Aomine Daiki's companion had asked to leave early saying that the wife had just given birth to their firstborn. He had bribed him. He had begged and pleaded. Aomine did not need this, though. Despite being a scowling and scary man, he was actually soft and mushy inside. He said yes immediately after the older man pleaded his case. So now, here he was, just sitting behind the counter and waiting for the last customer to leave. It was all quiet, the only sounds one can hear being the whirring of the AC's engine and the tick-tocking of the clock.

Aomine looked at his customer through the kiosk's glass with his brows furrowed. The young man was sitting at the couch farthest from the counter; he was a tall blonde with long limbs that folded as his elbows rested on his knees and his fingers entangled with each other. He was wearing a crumpled moss green long sleeve, faded jeans and sneakers. A single silver hoop dangling motionlessly from his ear. He seemed to be looking at a faraway place. Aomine knew it was surely not the long-melted Mocha Frappuccino in front of him that he had ordered some two hours ago; he had not touched it since. Nor had he moved from that position since he sat there. He was more ornament than customer.

The barista focused his gaze at the blonde's face. He was actually very attractive: thin, pink lips parted slightly, nose a very handsome straight-edged shape, cheekbones just high enough for Aomine. His amber eyes were unfocused and unusually dead (Aomine could only assume that the 'usual' for those gorgeous orbs would be full of life and expectation from life), but they were alluring all the same. Stray blonde strands fell just above his shoulders, close to his neck and Aomine wondered what it would be like to have those strands slide between his tanned digits; they must be soft… like silk.

The blonde must have felt quite uneasy because he moved for the first time that night and tucked a few strands behind his hooped ear, revealing a little bit of neck. There was something there that immediately caught the barista's attention; something that was a stark contrast to the milky white complexion of the blonde.

Aomine stared. He sighed.

"Here, it's on the house."

A slice of Sansrival made its way on the table right next to his drink and the male blonde looked up at Aomine. He wasn't sure what to feel when the barista settled on the couch in front of him, taking off the black apron tied around his waist and slinging it on the armrest.

The blonde blinked. "Sorry?"

Aomine pointed to the cake by a forward movement of his chin. "The cake. It's free."

"I… Oh… Okay." But he didn't touch it and held his hands together once more.

He had another staring contest, this time with the cake, and Aomine had time to prepare himself and Americano. This was over in about five minutes and he sat back down in front of the customer.

"You know…" the barista started and rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up top, "…you all look the same."

"Who?"

"People in an abusive environment."

Amber eyes widened. "How did you—?"

Aomine tapped the area below his own ear twice; this elicited a strong blush from his blonde companion and he covered the area around his ear with his blonde locks. This confirmed Aomine's speculations. So he was right, it was a bruise. Nothing big. But it was definitely there, a small, coin-sized fading blue-black patch.

"Father?" The blonde looked away. "Not answering, huh? I take it as a 'yes'?"

Still no answer. Aomine sighed. He took a sip of his coffee, set the cup back on its saucer and crossed his legs. "You should just get out of the house while you can. You're still standing now but time will come when—"

"Boyfriend," he interrupted in a voice so imperceptible it was almost as if it was just mouthed with no voice. But Aomine caught it and he gave the boy a 'What?' in reply, just in case he'd heard wrong. The blonde, still avoiding Aomine's gaze, repeated in a louder voice, "Boyfriend."

The navy-head was actually surprised. Both brows that were in an eternal knot shot up. So the young man liked men. There was no discrimination or hate there, though. Aomine was a bisexual himself so he was in no place to start pointing fingers. But what were the odds that a bisexual man would meet another bisexual (homosexual?) man at quarter to twelve in the evening? Clearly not too huge a probability.

There was a pregnant pause in the conversation and all that could be heard was white noise and the clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It was once again Aomine who broke the silence. "What's your name?"

The blonde hesitated at first but then obliged when he saw that Aomine was not giving an inch. "Kise."

"Nice to meet you, Kise. You can call me Aomine," he said. "So…"

"'So' what?"

"You clearly need to talk it out but it doesn't seem like you were successful in finding a good sounding board. Care to share?"

"You're a stranger," Kise said bluntly. The words 'And this is none of your damned business' lingered but he did not bother to voice it out.

"Oh, you'll find the company of a stranger better than those you think you know," he took another sip of his coffee. "Strangers can at least be objective about your situation. They can't judge you because basically they don't know you. And whatever it is you have to say, even if they blab it to other people, you can always just turn your back and pretend it isn't true because…"

"…Because they're strangers…" Kise finished Aomine's statement tentatively with a small smile on his face. His eyes glowed for a bit, but as soon as the happiness appeared, it was snuffed out. His amber eyes were once again dead.

"Well, then. Why don't you start your tale?" Aomine said, breathing in deeply and leaning back on the couch comfortably. "Better start now because I have a feeling it's going to be a long story."

"Not really," Kise replied. "All you'll ever need to know, you already know."

"All I know is that your boyfriend beats you and you're too much of a pussy to run away," he spat. He did not hold back with his words and Kise was taken aback.

"It's complicated." Kise's hand reached out for the tall glass of frappe and he took it carefully in his hands. The beads of sweat on the glass fell on his hands. "You won't understand."

"Oh yeah?" Aomine asked and leaned forward. "Try me."

There was a mocking laugh that came from Kise's chest, past his throat and out his nose. "We all say that to sound all-knowing… to make others think we can actually help… but we're not really any more helpful than the next guy."

The older man sighed in resignation. The blonde was obviously more distrustful than he initially thought. Without warning, he turned his arms over to show Kise white lines running from his wrist to the back of his elbow. The other man flinched at the sight of Aomine's scars.

"You—"

"My dad, yeah."

"He… He did that to you?"

"No," it was now Aomine's turn to snicker. "He beat me up so bad I thought I'd just end it myself." He looked outside the glass to the forward-stretching road for a second, and then his eyes trailed back to Kise. "I may not understand to the letter but I can at least empathize."

Kise took a passive sip of his drink and then a small bite of the cake in front of him. Aomine took this as a sign that he was ready to share. He put down the plate and fork, and rolled up his loose shirt just above his chest. Aomine's eyes widened when he saw that all over Kise's pale torso were a number of bruises and cuts, a few burn marks that you would get when a lit cigarette comes in contact with your skin. Some were fresh, most were old, about a few weeks. His arms were in the same condition: bruises and cuts adorned his arms.

"You show me yours, I show you mine."

"Well, I've got to say, I'm actually quite impressed."

Kise chuckled through his nose before putting his shirt back down. "We've only been together for two months. He's my first boyfriend, you know?"

"Now, I'm thoroughly impressed," Aomine commented, then he whistled. For the man to do that much damage in two months, he must work pretty hard. "What do you actually do for him to beat you up that much?"

"Nothing big, actually," he said and took another sip of sweetness, "Forget to wake him up, I get beaten. Stay out too late, I get beaten. Almost everything that he thinks disadvantages him, I get beaten."

"You're what? Twenty-five, twenty-six?" Aomine asked.

"Twenty-seven," Kise pouted.

"How in the world can a twenty-seven-year-old man not defend himself?!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "I mean, you're tall and you're build is not too bad. Surely, you could have defended yourself any time!"

"I could!" he retorted and took a handful of his pants in both fists. "It's just… I…"

"You what?" 'He gives me something I cannot get from others' was his shy reply. Aomine all but 'tsk'-ed. "You endure his sadistic and abusive tendencies because he screws you? What kind of logic is that?"

"You don't understand!" Kise exclaimed defensively. "I—I love him!"

Aomine scoffed. "People say 'I love him' and 'I love her' all the time but they don't really know what they're talking about. Do you love him or do you lust for him? It gets quite difficult to differentiate. It's a common mistake people make so I'll tell you now: sex does not necessarily equal love.

"You can have sex with someone you do not love. And when you love someone, you don't necessarily immediately want to have sex with them. Sex is when they touch your body. Love is when they touch your heart." Aomine jabbed a thumb to his pulled up chest for good measure, then, mentally cursed himself for being so mushy.

"He…" Kise paused and thought of a less vulgar way of phrasing his next statement but failed, "…makes me feel good."

"Pssh," the other man retorts. "Now you're just contradicting yourself. A while ago you said you love him. Now, you're basically saying you're in it for the sex."

"And so what if I am? Who knows?" he asked, leaning in. Confusion was swimming in Kise's eyes. "It's difficult, you know? To let him go… I've tried but I failed. I keep coming back to him, looking for him, the feeling he gives me."

Aomine watched as Kise's fists tightened, his knuckles turned white. His honey-colored eyes were looking far away again, looking for something he could not find anywhere else.

"But after every time we do it," he starts again, "I feel an enormous amount of guilt. Partly because it's against the natural order of things for two men to be doing such things; mainly because I know that deep within me, I had wanted to do it and I was not feeling the least bit sorry. It's very confusing, this whole right-and-wrong thing."

The other man stared at his coffee. It had long gone cold. Kise's frappe and cake remained half-eaten and half-drunk as well. Their conversation was turning into quite a personal one and Aomine debated ending it like that. Then, he looked up at Kise, eyes tired and wandering. He looked like was ready to just jump off a building and end it all—the only thing keeping him from doing so is (probably) Aomine and the café they were in.

He decided he wouldn't let it come to that.

"The concept of 'right' and 'wrong' is very overrated," he said as-a-matter-of-factly. "What may be right for you may not necessarily be right for me.

"In some countries, the death penalty is still legal. In some, humanitarians have fought to protect the lives of these inhumane humans. Same thing goes for abortion, drugs, same-sex marriage and a thousand other issues that we do not wish to confront because people are contented with what we call the status quo. But that's the problem with humans: they can't accept change, but they don't even try to understand it.

"What is right anyway? And what exactly is that which we call 'wrong'? Many people before us have tried to give their versions of it but failed to please everybody because it's subjective. The bottom line is: we don't know. And we may never know. Are we even supposed to know everything? No, we are not, so stop it.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is," Aomine breathed deeply (and somewhat tiredly) as he slouched back into his chair. He had been speaking too much and it felt both good and exhausting to be using such big words, "You don't need society to tell you what is right or wrong. You have your own right and wrong so live by that. As long as you don't interfere with someone else's rights, then do whatever makes you happy."

Kise brought a hand to his chest and grabbed his shirt tightly, eyes boring holes on the mahogany table. "It's not… something that's easy to pass off as right when society tells you it's wrong."

"Fuck society!" the other man bellowed. "Sex is basic human need! So what if it just so happens that you satisfy it with other men? Don't think for one moment that makes you abnormal or crazy or wrong. That's just other people saying that and I say, 'Screw them all'."

"You know, your way of comforting people is too forceful," a small smile made its way to Kise's face. "You use too much profanity."

"Profanity is called for where formalities fail." The cold coffee tasted wrong in Aomine's mouth and he cringed. "It's what I use to get through people's thick skulls."

"He threatened to tell my family about my… preferences." Kise said after a while. He held the tall glass close to his face and the straw touched his lower lip. He was smiling, but Aomine thought it was a somewhat sad and worried smile.

"He's blackmailing you?" Kise nodded. "He's probably more afraid of losing you than you are of losing him, then!"

The blonde shrugged. "Even if that's true, I'm still at a loss. There are things he can use against me that will ruin me."

"That being your family?"

"I have a lot to lose if they find out," he explained. "On the other hand, he's got nobody… except me."

"So, if I've got this right; you want to leave the relationship but you like the sex, and you don't think your family will handle it too well?"

"I'm afraid they might change towards me."

"Well, fuck. Your family must be pretty shallow and simple-minded."

Kise glared at him. He obviously did not appreciate the insult to his kin. "They're good people—loving people," he started, "but it is a person's nature to shy away from things they do not understand; things that are different, and new, and strange. Like me."

"You have a point," agreed Aomine.

People will always have opinions; some different, some similar to your own. You cannot control them and you cannot choose them either. They can tell you one thing but at the back of their minds, they actually believe in another. It was a biting reality that behind the 'Everything is fine,' the 'I'll still be here,' and the 'Nothing will change,' people's actions betray them and they do, in fact, change.

People are manipulative, Kise decided. Which is why he would not want to sully his loving-son-and-brother image to his family, lest he lose them forever.

"But," Aomine countered, "would you really rather live like a punching bag with your boyfriend while keeping your family in the dark? Or will you leave and hold on to the slight chance that your family will understand?"

"I will die either way," Kise replied bitterly.

"You will die, yes; we all will, someday. It was basically a question of whether you wanted a slow and painful death, or a more natural and perhaps happy one?"

"When you say it like that, it isn't hard to choose."

"It's not very hard to choose, you know?"

"What about going to heaven or hell?" Kise says, "If a devout Believer heard you, they would probably convince you that you're saying the wrong things."

"We're back to the right-for-you-right-for-me debate. Can't everybody just respect everybody? Geez. If that happened the world will be a much better place."

The two were quiet for some time. Aomine took this opportunity to finish his Americano. Meanwhile, Kise finally started on his neglected drink and cake again. When they were both done, Aomine gathered the porcelain and proceeded to the kitchen to wash them. Kise followed closely behind him.

"It's still very guilt-driving, though." Apparently the conversation was not yet over. Kise was confused and lost; he wanted answers from Aomine as he could not seem to find them on his own. "It feels wrong and yet whenever I'm in the hype of it, I just… It feels so right. After that, I'm back to square one where I'm thinking I'm the worst person in the planet."

Who knows how many people out there are feeling exactly like Kise?

The dishes were clinking as Aomine cleaned them. He didn't speak until he was finished and he put them on the dryer.

"What exactly is it that you want, Kise?" he asked and leaned on the counter. Kise was beside him, one hand leaning on the marble and the other resting limp on his side.

"I want to stop feeling guilty," he said. "I want to stop feeling dirty and awful and… wrong."

"Then what for you is right?" he asked and crossed his arms over his chest. Kise did not answer. "You should start from there…"

"I…" The blonde hesitated at first but followed up with, "What if I'm doing it all wrong?"

"Will you stop fretting about that? If you're too afraid to make mistakes, you'll never learn!" exclaimed Aomine, annoyed.

"Are you actually saying that I continue with living like this until I make a decision?!"

"No," he immediately answered, "I'm saying you should make a decision—one that you actually want—and start living it! Geez.

"If you think what you're doing right now is wrong then start over. Life is all about learning from past mistakes, after all. Just don't get yourself killed and you'll be alright. After all, you're old enough to know what is and what's not good for you."

Aomine pushed Kise to the front of the café where they both stared at their reflections on the glass. Their reflections looked back at them.

"Look at yourself, man," the barista challenged. "Don't you realize that you look like shit?"

Kise stared. He hasn't looked at himself in front of the mirror in a long time because he was afraid of what he might see. He knew it wouldn't be that innocent little boy with the bright sunshine smiles who left flowers on his wake. He knew he would see somebody else—somebody he didn't know—and the thought scared him. Now, he looked at his reflection: golden eyes now dull and lifeless with dark circles underneath, his smile nowhere to be seen, and his face decorated with a number of cuts; he realized his fear had actually become a reality.

And there was no one to blame but himself. He was too much of a (in Aomine's words) pussy to run away.

"You're worried now." Aomine turned his back and went behind the counter to gather his things. "Wait 'til your family sees."

"I get it, I do…" he said, "but I'm still quite afraid about what my family will think if and when they find out."

"I can tell you they'll be shocked as hell. But give it a few months or a few years and they'll get over it. If they really love you, then they'll accept you no matter your preferences."

"You're talking like you actually know."

"Because I do know," Aomine replied.

Kise's head snapped to his direction and eyes widened in surprise. "You mean you're—like, you actually—"

"I like women. But I can come to like men, too. I'm not picky," he said with a smug smirk.

"But I thought your father—I mean—wasn't he—?!"

"My mom and my dad divorced when I was eighteen. A year later, she remarried my stepdad; and another year later, they found out I was a bi."

"And how did they react?" Kise asked. He followed Aomine as he proceeded to the door.

"Shocked at first. Then a bit disappointed. They didn't talk to me for weeks," he said. "But later on, things cooled down and they started to talk to me again. Even later, they were able to talk to me about my orientation openly."

"And now they're okay with it?"

"Not really okay," he said. "But they're tolerating it so long as I don't do anything stupid."

The blonde looked at him for a few seconds before saying, "I quite envy you, Aominecchi."

"Aominecchi?" the man sweatdropped.

"I wish I was as carefree as you."

Aomine sighed for the umpteenth time that night. "We all envy someone at one point of another because they are doing things we could only dream of doing. But what we don't know is that we are the ones who are limiting ourselves to what we can and can't do. It's all a matter of perspective.

"Don't worry about your family too much. They're family: they will understand. It's like a default setting."

Kise smirked. "You've said so many deep things tonight. Are you always this sentimental?"

"Only when a customer keeps me late at night when I could be home doing something worthwhile."

"And you're pretty knowledgeable for a barista. This café is lucky to have you," he said. Aomine only shrugged at this.

"So have you decided what you're going to do yet?"

Kise shrugged. "I'll figure it out, I guess."

The everyday monotony of taking an order, preparing, and serving other people their drinks would only be broken by a vivid flashback of the blonde. Only then would Aomine actually stop whatever he was doing, wonder what was going on in the blonde's life, and go back to his workload with a small smile.

Kise did not come back after that night. Sometimes, Aomine would stay late (much to the surprise of the staff) to wait for him to open the door and walk inside. He would have wanted to know what happened to him, whether he left his man yet. But Kise didn't come. Aomine didn't blame him; he was in no position to demand such retelling from him so he went on with his life.

Taking orders. Preparing. Serving drinks.

Two weeks had passed.

One night when Aomine and a few other of the staff were closing up, the glass door opened and the bell chimed, signaling the arrival of a customer. He was by the cash register then, carefully auditing that day's sales. He did not bother to look up as he was engrossed in his work.

"I'm sorry but we're closed—"

"That's too bad, Aominecchi."

Surprised, he looked up. A smile. His eyes burned. Who the heck turned on the spotlight? Oh, wait, it was just Kise smiling. The blonde looked more-or less the same except for the wide, happy smile; he had stitched wound above his right brow, a split lip, and a few cuts here and there. His left hand was bandaged as well. Today he sported a blue shirt, skinny jeans and sneakers.

"Well, you look like hell," Aomine smirked. "Which wall did you crash into?"

"Broke up with the boyfriend a few nights ago," Kise said with a smile. Ah, his smile was bright enough to rival the sun. Aomine thought he would go blind. "Beat me up for it, too, before he actually had the guts to call my sisters and my parents about it."

"And?" he asked and slammed the cash register shut. "What happened next?"

"I already told my family beforehand so they weren't surprised." The blonde licked his wounded lips and smirked. "After that it was my turn to beat him up."

"Felt good, didn't it?"

"Yes, very."

Aomine gave a hearty laugh. "Finally figured yourself out, huh?"

"Nah, far from it," Kise started. "I'm still trying to find myself… but I guess you'll never truly find yourself until the day you die. I think the point of life is creating yourself so that in your next life, it wouldn't be such a bitch to figure out."

"Now look who's full of deep words of wisdom!" Aomine closed the cash register and did a few checks on a small notebook. "Family taking it well?"

"Better than what I'd imagined, actually."

The older man smirked. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"Look for a job, I guess?" Kise said. "And speaking of that, I was kinda wondering if you guys had an opening. I could talk to the manager and—"

"You're looking at him," Aomine said smugly.

"Pardon?" Kise asked.

"The manager," he repeated, "you're looking at him."

There were several moments of silence before Kise's eyebrows furrowed, his mouth opened dramatically wide, and he pointed a finger at Aomine. "YOU?! YOU'RE THE MANAGER?!"

The manager could only cover his ears with his hands. Lazily, he replied, "Yeah, what of it?"

"You… You're—This isn't a joke, right?"

"Nope," said Aomine and pointed to a certificate on the Staff's Bulletin Board with his thumb. It was the permit to operate for the café and the name written above the word 'Proprietor' in huge bold letters was AOMINE DAIKI.

"I'm still at a loss for words," Kise managed to mumble out.

Meanwhile, Aomine grabbed his jacket and slung it around his shoulder. He looked at Kise—beaten up but happy—and mentally noted how, despite all the injuries he had, seemed to be a lot better. There were still a few things that he couldn't sort but don't we all? At least, now, Kise knew where to start.

He looked at Kise, who smiled at him. "Let's go, then."

"Where to?"

"There's this newly-opened coffee shop just ahead the intersection. Reviews were great for their Sansrival so I want to try it out and see how different it is from ours."

"Heh, you're spying on competition," Kise said and opened the door for the both of them.

"And maybe you could tell me all about how you beat the heck out of that guy?"

"Gladly!"

Aomine reached out and pat him on the head. Kise's initial reaction was to shy away from the touch, but then the older male ruffled his blonde locks affectionately. This gesture dusted pink on the blonde's cheeks. As he expected, they were soft as silk.

"A-Aominecchi…"

"Your treat, of course," he smirked. He walked ahead of Kise and disarmed his car before he went in. Kise followed him after careful consideration.

The car engine started, revved, and then disappeared into the night.

A/N(2): This was hard to write. I hope they weren't too OOC. As I was writing this, I put a lot of thought into how their conversation went. If any of you guys have a problem with what you've just read (insulted or not agreeing or anything like that), please don't hesitate to drop me a line.

Thank you for reading. This has been a pleasure to write and I'm very satisfied by it. Hope you guys like it, too!

R&R, everyone!