Archive of Our Own ^beta

I don’t want to open it.

The envelope lies, unopened, on Kozume Kenma’s lap as he sits on the edge of his bed. His name is scrawled across the front of the envelope in Kuroo’s too-precise handwriting. He traces the kanji with the pad of his thumb. 

It’s a normal Saturday morning. Outside of his room, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. “We should go outside,” says the memory in his head. “C’mon, kitten. You’re wasting the day away holed up inside of this room.”

Kenma had rolled his eyes, sprawled back on his bed until Kuroo had reached out, his long fingers squeezing Kenma’s sides, exactly where he knew Kenma was ticklish. Kenma had swatted him away, hating the sounds that escaped his mouth, but the grin on Kuroo’s face had only gotten bigger. “I’m not stopping ‘till you agree to at least walk down the street with me,” he’d said, his tone warm.

Kenma probably would’ve given in anyways, even without all of Kuroo’s slightly unethical method. He’s always been a sucker for Kuroo Tetsurou. Every time Kuroo whipped out that pleading look, Kenma’d known he was completely fucked. But through gasped giggles, he’d said, “Okay, fine, whatever, I give in! Have mercy, god.”

Kuroo had leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose lightly, then pulled away, his cheeks slightly red. “Thank you,” he’d said, as if it was a choice.

Regardless, Kenma had taken his hand, twining their fingers together. The gaps between their fingers seemed to correspond perfectly, as though their hands were two puzzle pieces designed for each other. Kuroo gave his hand a light squeeze as they walked out the door.

Too bad I won’t be going out today, Kenma thinks wryly. He glances back down at the envelope. A sudden sense of guilt encompasses him; he imagines the amount of time Kuroo had to have spent writing this. It’d be wrong to not read it, wouldn’t it? But no. Reading it would be acceptance. Acceptance that this is all that’s left for Kuroo to say. And Kenma doesn’t want that.

Still, the curiosity is killing him…

God, whatever. It’s not like anyone’s around to see him, anyways. He carefully slides open the seal on the envelope and, with trembling hands, removes the letter from its packaging. 

Hey, kitten, Kenma, sweetheart, angel, love of my life.

He closes his eyes. It’s too easy, almost, to imagine Kuroo saying it, mumbling it into his hair in between light kisses. He pretends for a moment that he’s in Kuroo’s arms again, pressed close enough to hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Get it over with, he chides himself, and forces his eyes open again.

I never wanted you to have to read this. I never wanted to have to write this. I never wanted to leave you, and yet, life is cruel. I’m sorry.

One part of Kenma yells that it’s not Kuroo’s fault, but there’s another, more bitter part that screams at him internally. Well, you still left me, it hisses into the darkness of Kenma’s soul. It’s all your fault. All of this is your fault. You could’ve… you should’ve… fuck you.

Kenma pushes it down into the corner of his mind and keeps reading.

I think that the best way for me to do this is to take you on a tour while you read. If I know you, and I’d like to think that I do, you haven’t left your place in a while. So do me one last favor, my love. Go where I tell you to in this letter. Take the letter with you. Don’t read the sections until you get there. I wrote these sections while I was there, so it’ll be like we’re there together. 

Kenma glares at the sheet of paper, like it’s going to do anything. Of course Kuroo would find one last way to spite him. He grips the paper tighter in his hands, but then relaxes slightly, giving a tiny little nod. “Fine,” he says, wanting to pretend like he used to that he could deny Kuroo anything. “But just this once.”

There are eight places on my list. Eight places to represent how old I was when we met for the first time, and my life was changed forever. (Yeah, yeah, scoff, call me cheesy, but it was.) And for the fifteen years since, I’ve been the luckiest man alive. 

Kenma winces slightly at the wording, and then again at the cheesy love letter this has started to become. But he doesn’t stop reading. He doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to.

Like I said earlier, you probably haven’t left your place, which means that you’re probably sitting on your bed reading this right now. I know that you probably don’t want to go all the way home, so I’m gonna let you just imagine this one, because my first location is the childhood home of one Kozume Kenma. It’s in that house that I saw the love of my life for the first time, and it’s in that house that everything changed for me. I’m being serious here, okay. 

Before I stepped foot in that house, I was an anxious mess. I’d just moved to Tokyo, and I’d managed to convince myself that I’d have no friends. I’d be alone forever, I’d never play volleyball again because I’d be too chicken to join a team. My parents were worried, I was freaked, and it was just a bad time. But then my mom dragged me over to talk to the people next door. She said they had a son about my age. If I’m being real with you here, I was pissed. I didn’t want to be forced to be friends with some loser kid that I had nothing in common with.

And when I first met you, I thought ha, I was right. This kid plays video games all the time. He’s quiet, and he’s kind of boring. We have nothing in common.

Kenma lays back onto his bed, his hands pressing into the letter. It’s something he himself has worried about through the years. He’s well aware that he’s not exactly the most interesting person in the world. He plays more video games than anyone he knows, and he doesn’t tend to talk a lot. He’d worried for so long that Kuroo had just settled for him, that Kuroo could do better, so it kind of stings a little to read. But then…

You shouldn’t need me to tell you how wrong I was, but I know you’re probably questioning yourself anyways. So here you go: I was completely and utterly fucking wrong. The biggest misconception I’ve ever had in my life, probably. Because you were, you are, everything.

He exhales slowly. “I’m not,” he says, feeling slightly crazy, but not knowing how else to respond.

When I first showed up with the volleyball, I could tell you weren’t at all interested. It was written all over your face. You’re so damn expressive. But still, you sucked it up and started playing volleyball with me, and that’s when I figured out the truth of life: Kozume Kenma is a complete and utter genius. A strategical maniac. A person who can suck the life out of other teams without lifting a hand. A badass. 

“Shut up,” Kenma mumbles. He can feel the blush dusting his cheeks. He knows that Kuroo would make fun of him, if he was there - if he could see -

You’d watch games and come up with strategies and I knew it then, that I had to keep you around. You had to be my setter. I wouldn’t settle for anything less. And then you came to that volleyball thing with me because I was too chicken to go along. (Crazy how things change, isn’t it?) And just like I got you into volleyball, you helped get me into volleyball. I don’t know what the hell I would’ve done without you. Been a chicken my whole life, probably. 

There’s a million other things I could say about the things we did at that house, but for now, let’s leave it at that. Next location: the bakery. You know what bakery I mean. Go there, Kenma. Get your ass off the bed. I mean it.

Leave it up to Kuro to be annoying when he’s not even there.

Grumbling, Kenma pulls himself off of his bed and pulls on a haphazard outfit - sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie. He’s not sure they really match, but he can’t bring himself to care. He stuffs his phone, his headphones, and the letter into the pocket of his hoodie and shuffles out of his apartment. 

As he walks down the road, he tries to keep himself hidden inside the giant hoodie that he’s suddenly realizing has to be Kuroo’s. He certainly doesn’t want to have to talk to anyone right now (or ever, really). But his life is never that simple.

Since his hood is pulled over his head, he nearly crashes straight into someone. He takes off his hood to give a quick apology and his eyes connect with those of Akaashi Keiji.

Shit.

“Kenma,” comes Akaashi’s soft voice after a second. Kenma had been contemplating running, but that seems to be impossible now. Akaashi continues, “Hi. It’s been a while. How… how are you doing?”

It’s a question Kenma’s never understood. Under normal circumstances, the answer is usually ‘good, what about you’, but these aren’t normal circumstances, and there’s no prescribed answer. He bites down on his lip and shuffles his feet. “Uh, hi. I’m… fine.” 

“You don’t have to say that,” Akaashi replies. “It’s okay, you know, if you’re not okay. It would make sense. And I am always available if you ever find that you would like to talk to someone or something.”

“I don’t have anything to talk about,” Kenma mumbles, hiding his gaze on the ground. It’s true, though; Kenma can’t imagine that talking could fix anything in his life right now, and he doesn’t see what good it would do him. 

Akaashi sighs. “I have tried texting you, you know. Calling you. I even dropped by your place one time, and no response. I don’t believe it to be helpful to avoid everyone like this - to avoid the truth of what happened.”

“I’m not avoiding shit,” Kenma hisses, wrapping his arms around his own body, feeling the letter fold closer to his body. “I just don’t want to talk to anyone right now, Keiji. Am I not allowed to deal with it on my own schedule?” 

“All right then,” Akaashi says quietly. “I was just hoping that I could help in some way, but I see that you don’t want my assistance. I’ll leave you alone now, then.” He frowns, his eyes droopy, which isn’t want Kenma had intended, but what was he supposed to say? “Bokuto-san and I were really hoping that we would not have to lose two friends.” He turns, giving Kenma a small wave. “I hope things get better for you soon, Kenma. You have my number if you decide you want to talk to me.” 

Kenma scowls and keeps walking. Akaashi just doesn’t understand, can’t understand how it feels to be him. But it’s fine, anyways. Kenma is just fine. Or at the very least, he’s surviving.

He walks into the bakery and is immediately accosted by the sweet scent of pies and breads. He makes a beeline for his favorite miniature apple pie, then, almost by reflex, turns to ask Kuroo if he wants his usual cherry tart.

It feels like a shot straight to the heart.

He clenches the apple pie in his hand, squeezing his eyes shut so as to convince himself not to cry. He turns to the cashier, who looks as though she’s going to say something, but then shakes her head, changing her mind. She instead rings up his pie and he silently hands over the money. He hates Kuroo for making him come here. He hates Kuroo for not letting him forget.

He hates Kuroo.

Instinctively, he heads over to the table in the corner, sliding into his chair. The apple pie in front of him smells as tantalizing as ever, but all of a sudden he’s not even hungry. Instead, he unfolds the note.

Thanks for listening.

If you’re wondering how I knew you’d go, I know you. It took me a while, but I figured out eventually that you were bad at saying no to me when I asked you for things. I assume that extends even to now.

I hope you got your favorite apple pie. I wish I could be there to buy you apple pies every single day. I’m sorry that I’m not.

Kenma sets down the paper, blinking rapidly. He won’t cry now. It’s stupid, anyways, to be crying in the middle of a fucking bakery. Besides, Kuroo had broken his promises. What happened to forever? He isn’t worth crying over. He isn’t .

Anyways, we found this place after your first day of middle school, remember? I wanted a way to thank you for joining the team with me, and I knew your two favorite demonstrations of appreciation: apple pies and video games. Unfortunately, as a thirteen-year-old, I was a little limited on the pocket cash, so apple pie it was. I was so excited when I found this place. I couldn’t wait to see the way your eyes lit up when I brought you here and you’d look over at me like I was the best person you’d ever seen.

You didn’t disappoint.

Kenma buries his head in his hands as he remembers - remembers how Kuroo had dragged him down the road, his hand clasping Kenma’s wrist, promising to ‘make Kenma’s day.’ Kenma had told him to slow down, nothing’s worth all this fuss, and then Kuroo had pulled him to a stop right in front of this very bakery.

You ate the apple pie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted. I had my own cherry tart in front of me, but I didn’t even feel like eating it, really. Watching you enjoy yourself like that was way better than any stupid tart.

I know you’d still choose apple pie over me any day, though.

Kenma gives a small snort despite himself. He hates that Kuroo can pinpoint exactly the kinds of things that will cheer him up. He hates that probably no one in the world will ever know him half as well as Kuroo did, almost like Kuroo was an extension of himself. 

The past tense smites. Kenma keeps reading. 

And so we made it a regular thing to come here. We’d order the same thing every time, even though literally everything they sold looked good, because we’re nothing if not people of tradition. (Which is why I know you loved the “blood in our veins” chant, despite your million protests.)

There’s not much in the world that’s a more beautiful sight than you eating an apple pie, because your eyes would light up and you’d give off this aura of like, complete contentedness. So I started taking you here whenever I thought you needed a pick-me-up, and I think you picked up on it, because you started taking me here too when I looked down.

We ate here when someone made fun of you for being quiet, when I wet my pants at school (don’t even laugh), when you got tripped on the way home from school, when I got wrecked by the Nekoma senpai. 

Speaking of Nekoma, that’s the next place I want you to go…

Kenma rolls his eyes, folding the note back up. He feels guilty, almost, for wanting to laugh at the memory of Kuroo wetting his pants at school. It seems wrong to laugh at a time like this. 

He thinks about what Kuroo had said about the pie being a pick-me-up and lifts a bite up to his mouth. When he tries to eat it, though, it tastes like mud in his mouth. He spits it out into a napkin and holds his face in his hands. 

Guess it won’t work this time, he thinks as he bites down on his lip. It’s not the same without him. 

Abruptly, he gets to his feet. The cashier lady says, “Hey, do you want to take that to go?”

Does he? He can’t think clearly. He supposes it’d probably be smart, but his already tiny appetite has only decreased over the past couple of months. Plus, who knows how long he’ll be out on Kuroo’s little quest? So he just shakes his head. 

As he steps out of the bakery, his phone starts ringing in his pocket. He hangs up without looking at the caller ID. There are more important things to be done right now.

The walk to Nekoma High School is weird on his own. He doesn’t even take out any of his gaming systems; who knows if he’ll run into a tree without someone there to guide him? It feels familiar and yet foreign, a walk to somewhere that feels as though it only exists in his memory.

He stops outside of the gates, hands shoved deep into his pockets. It looks almost foreboding. He then realizes by the students all around him that he’s not exactly going to blend in if he enters the campus. Maybe if he’d had the foresight to wear the uniform, but as of right now…

Kenma just stares at the gates, his eyes big, until the guard at the gates gives him a look. “Are you looking for someone?” he asks.

“I… my brother,” Kenma says lamely, very distinctively not making eye contact with the guard. Despite years of practice, Kenma’s still not exactly the world’s greatest liar.

He seems to be convincing enough, though, because the guard lets him through. Three years of being a loner and trying to avoid a brigade of loud people has taught him where the best hiding spots are. So he darts off to find a particular tree that he knows will shade him from the view of most people and settles down onto the ground.

If you managed to get on campus, I’m impressed. I’m imagining you right now leaning against that tree you used to hide behind all the time. Yes, I knew about that, by the way. Don’t roll your eyes - you’re easy to read, you know?

When I first decided on Nekoma for high school, you looked at me with a confused gaze. You said, “Nekoma? Really? They haven’t even been to Nationals in a while.” And I told you then that we’d make it there, that I knew we would, if you and me were on the team. 

“You don’t have to go to Nekoma if you don’t want to,” I said.

“If Nekoma is what you want, then I guess I’ll go,” you said. “I’ll follow you wherever you want.”

I knew then that you were saying I’ll follow you anywhere. I almost cried right there, but I knew you’d make fun of me for it. It still makes me tear up to think about. I’d follow you anywhere too. I hope you know that.

“You can’t,” Kenma says, balling up one of his hands into fists. No one replies.

Nekoma was the best years of my life, probably, and the time where I was able to grow into myself the most - obnoxious though the real me might be. Nekoma was where I had all my firsts - first embarrassing confession to a girl who immediately rejected me, first time I failed a test, first time I started tutoring you before every test, first time I figured out what I wanted to study for the rest of my life, first time I realized I was desperately in love with you, but I’ll talk about that in the next part. 

I want you to walk over to the gym for my fourth place. You don’t have to go inside - I’m sure they’d be freaked by a random twenty-something dude showing up at their practice who played on the team years and years ago - but just sit outside or something. 

Kenma sighs. He pushes himself off the ground, clasping the note in his hands, and drags himself over to the gym, pushing himself step by step to keep going. His entire body feels heavy. He wonders how he did it back in high school - got up early every day, practiced for hours on end with few breaks.

He’d had a strong motivation at the time, though, he thinks as he remembers Kuroo’s fond smile.

The gym door is opened slightly. Despite the fact that Kenma knows it’s weird, he can’t help but peer in through the crack. It’s empty at this time of day, which is something Kuroo couldn’t have predicted, but he doesn’t go in nonetheless. Just the sight of it is like an arrow through the heart.

All of the tosses, all of the quick attacks with Kuroo, the time he’d yelled at Yamamoto, the time they’d played Karasuno for the first time, the time that Kuroo had come to visit from university as a surprise, and after practice, after everyone else had left, kissed him up against the wall of the locker room. The memories come rushing over him all at once. He steps back, slides back against the wall until he’s sitting on the ground, and takes the letter back out. 

The gym. Can you smell the sweat and tears even from outside? Bet you can. I bet Yamamoto’s stench is permanently entrenched into its walls. 

Anyways, the gym. This is where I really fell in love with you for the first time. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed anything. It was a normal day, we were at practice, and everything was incredibly boring. I asked you to help Lev with receives, you gave me your disgusted face that you’d always give me when I asked you to do anything Lev-related, and I laughed and told you to go do it anyways. Everything was totally normal.

Except I kept watching you. I watched as you walked over to Lev, commanded him to do better with his receives, gave him that stink face whenever he’d miss and your face would lighten up the littlest bit whenever he’d do it right. And then I called out to you.

“Kenma!” I said, to try to get you to move on to the next thing, send some sets to the rest of us. You whipped your head around and your hair flew behind you, almost looking like a halo framing your face. As you looked at me, I could see that your eyes lit up the slightest bit, and your mouth curved up. You were ethereal. My breath caught in my throat. 

I’m in love with Kenma, I thought then, and I knew that I was true. My entire life had built up to that moment. It wasn’t even that much of a shock in retrospect. But you know me, I still freaked out for a while. Still, it all turned out okay in the end, didn’t it? So don’t make fun of me. I had a lot of growth to do.

Kuroo had been right; Kenma very much does not remember that day. Somehow it had blended in with all of the other memories of practices with the Nekoma team. But it sounds plausible enough, because even back then, even in high school, Kenma had been very much aware of how in love with Kuroo he was. 

Sometimes he thinks that he’s been in love with Kuroo for forever. It’s difficult, almost impossible, to conjure up memories of a life without Kuroo - besides that which he’s living right now is the thought he quickly suppresses. He figured out he was in love with Kuroo when he started high school, after Kuroo shot him a genuine smile during a practice and Kenma’s heart had sped up way too fast, and that had been that. There’d never been any questions, anything to freak out about. Kenma was in love with Kuroo, and that was that.

But he hates Kuroo now. Kuroo’s a traitor, a liar, and he’s not here anymore. There’s no more room for love.

His claws dig into the paper. 

I spent way too much time pining in this gym during the time leading up to Nationals. I’d just watch you during practice. Sometimes it’d even get to the point that I’d end up getting hit in the head with balls during practice because I’d be too entranced by you. I kind of hope you never noticed. It’s too late for you to tease me about that now, anyways. 

Kenma frowns. He so wishes he could turn to his side, where Kuroo used to always be, and poke him forcefully in the ribs before saying, “So do I really distract you? You idiot, I can’t believe you got hit in the head staring at me,” with a fond smile on his face. Kuroo would laugh and shrug sheepishly, telling him something cheesy like, “You’re like a magnet, and my eyes just get pulled to you,” which Kenma would tell him to shut up about.

Fuck. Stupid Kuroo, making Kenma miss him.

Kenma can’t think about it. He won’t.

We spent way too much time in this gym. A lot of the time I felt bad about dragging you into the sport in the first place, especially when you’d catch a fever from working so hard. I hoped one day you’d think that it was all worth it.

So I guess that leads us to the next place: the Spring Interhigh stadium. Tokyo Metropolitan. 

I’m not crazy enough to believe you’ll go all the way across town to get there, so you can just imagine that you’re there for this one too.

Kenma almost snorts. Kuroo has a point; it’s one thing to ask him to go to the bakery or to Nekoma, but to ask him to go to the fucking stadium is another thing. It’s almost scary how well Kuroo knows him. 

It’s almost scary how bad that feels. 

When we walked into the stadium for the first time, my breath was taken away. It had been my dream for so long, y’know. Mine and Yakkun’s both. And we could have never gotten there without you. 

You’ll tell me that I’m wrong or whatever, but it’s the truth. I always said you were the brain, backbone, and heart of Nekoma. We needed you to win. I needed you.

Not to get too off topic. Anyways, we got to Nationals, and it was amazing. We managed to beat two schools, can you believe that? We were killing it. And then all of a sudden we got taken down by those stupid crows. I was so pissed. But I couldn’t stay mad for long, because you looked at me with those big eyes of yours, and said, “Kuro, thank you for getting me into volleyball.” 

I nearly passed out on the spot. You were… so beautiful, and so sincere, and you were saying the words I’d been wanting to say forever. I realized right then that I had to confess to you. I couldn’t keep these feelings inside for much longer. Ha. You always did tell me I wore my heart on my sleeve.

Kenma can’t help the way his mouth quirks up. It’s something he definitely had always told Kuroo: that everything he feels is reflected in his expressions, that he fell in love quickly with everything, with everyone. And yet somehow Kenma hadn’t even really realized when Kuroo fell in love with him, probably because he’d been too scared to look, to find out that what he’d felt for Kuroo for what felt like forever wouldn’t be reciprocated. 

I pulled you outside after the games, after Karasuno was defeated, after I went to tell those guys that they’d tried their best or whatever, because I’m just that kind of a person. Don’t roll your eyes - you of all people should know just how kind I am! Anyways, we were outside, everyone else was doing who knows what, and I looked down at you and thought my heart was gonna explode.

You shifted from one foot to another, looking nervous. I’m not sure what exactly what you thought I was gonna say.

Kenma doesn’t really know what he thought Kuroo was going say, only that he’d assumed it was a bad thing. Every time someone said something like “I need to talk to you” or “can we talk later?”, it sent Kenma’s anxiety into overdrive. Too often it was something negative. He’d assumed that this would be the same. But instead…

I looked down at you with your nervous expression and my heart skipped a beat. Now or never, I told myself. It had to be now. And I had this big epic confession planned out, I really did, like something out of the movies, but instead what came out was something all jumbled, like “Iloveyou.”

You gave me the world’s most confused glance. “What?”

“I… I love you,” I stammered out. “I’m in love with you. And I know that you probably don’t think that way about me, but I still wanted to let you know or whatever. Just in case there’s a chance.”

Kenma remembers how he’d felt at that moment, as Kuroo stared down at the ground, his cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink. Kenma’d been beyond shocked - of all the things he’d assumed Kuroo might pull him outside for, he hadn’t expected this.

You just stood there for a few moments, and I figured you were thinking about how to let me down easy. I was about to say something, to say that it was okay, that I understood and we could just go back to how things were before. Then all of a sudden you said, “There’s a chance,” with a tiny smile on your face.

“A chance?” I repeated, I think, because I tend to get a little bit dumb when it comes to you. (Don’t tell anyone, though.)

“A pretty big chance,” you said, “that I love you too.” 

And I fell in love all over again when you leaned in to kiss me for the first time. I know you aren’t fond of my sappiness, even after all these years, so I’ll just say that it was one of the best moments of my life, if not the best moment. I truly couldn’t believe how lucky I was. I still can’t. I never deserved you, and I was blessed to have you for as long as I did.

“That’s not even true,” Kenma hisses at the unmoving paper. Kuroo had always deserved better than him, in fact; it’d something that had been obvious to Kenma for a long time. Maybe that’s why Kuroo had been taken away from him. But no, that’s a dangerous train of thought.

Let’s go to the location of our first date, then. Your favorite fancy place. Yes, you have to walk this time.

Kenma groans, pushing himself up to his feet. He feels kind of out of it, as though it’s not his feet stepping, not his body moving. Stupid Kuroo, wanting him to go to all these places. Stupid Kuroo not being there to go with him. Stupid doctors, stupid field of medicine, everything these days is just so stupid. There should’ve been someone who could’ve prevented this, and yet…

Nope, he’s still not going to think about it. He keeps walking, off of Nekoma’s campus, and somehow even though he’d graduated years ago it feels like he’s closing a chapter. He’ll never go back. He doesn’t think he could handle it.

The walk to the restaurant is fairly long and extremely boring. Kenma whips out his phone at one point to see if he can play one of his mindless mobile games while he walks, but after two minutes he runs into a pole, hears the quiet chuckle of the woman behind him, and floods with embarrassment. After that, the phone gets shoved back in his pocket. He scowls, wishing that he had someone to walk with him again. Wishing that life wasn’t so pointless.

Eventually, he finds the restaurant. He doesn’t see a use in going inside - he’s been taking time off of work recently, so his finances are a bit stretched, and he’s still not that hungry anyways. He takes a seat on the bench across the street.

Why am I even still doing this? He doesn’t really know himself. No one would ever know the difference, and each part is painful to read through, like tiny daggers prickling at his heart. But Kuroo had asked him to. So he pulls the letter out again, praying that he can just get through this and go back to his boring life.

This restaurant. When I brought you here on our first ‘date’ - that is, our first date that we both called a date, your eyes flickered like when you see a game you’re dying to play and I knew I’d made the right decision. You said you’d read some reviews online and people were raving about the desserts. I grinned and said to order as much as you wanted, because I was paying. (I was bullshitting, of course. I worked a minimum wage job and was about to be a starving college student. But you knew that, of course, and you only ordered a moderate amount of fancy ass desserts.)

I don’t know what I expected our first date to be like. Awkward, maybe? That seemed to be the general trend of people I talked to about their first dates. But I guess that kind of life was never cut out for us, because it was as natural as ever. I teased you about the way you nibbled at one of your tarts, and you scowled and kicked me, then said not everyone could shovel food in their mouths like they’re preparing for hibernation. I still remember that, by the way, mostly because I got side-eyed by the wait staff for laughing. Little shit. 

It wasn’t the dream first date, by any means, but it was my dream first date. Being able to feel completely relaxed and happy with someone that I cared about. Eating delicious food. Staring at you when you weren’t looking - 

“I knew you were looking, idiot.”

Feeling like everything was right in the world. And we kept coming back there, every few weeks or so when I saved up enough money, because I refused to let you pay. And then you started paying when you got your first part-time job because you said it wasn’t fair. I would’ve paid for you every single time if I you’d let me, you know. You deserved every meal I could give you and so much more. Don’t argue with me.

Okay, let’s go to the fountain near this restaurant now.

Kenma clutches the letter in his fist and gets up off of the bench. It seems too quiet around here, almost eerily quiet, as if this area had been emptied in preparation for his arrival. He makes his way down the street, reassuring himself that there are just two more places he has to go, and then all of this will go over. He doesn’t have to think about all of these memories any more if he doesn’t want to. He can think about the new Metal Gear game being released next year, and the fact that he can sleep as long as he wants these days, and the fact that… 

The fact that…

Well, he’ll think of something else good in his life later, he supposes. 

The fountain is just a couple hundred meters away from the restaurant, so he reaches it in no time at all. It’s not quite as striking in the daytime, without all the lights glimmering from it, but Kenma thinks he’s glad that it’s not. He doesn’t think he could take it if it looked exactly the same as it had that night.

Will you kill me if I say I thought the fountain was beautiful, but not half as beautiful as you?

Yeah, I’m talking about that night when I came to visit from college and brought you to our restaurant and then to here. You looked up at me and the moon reflected in your eyes and I thought, no, I knew that I wanted this for the rest of my life. I wanted you for the rest of my life. I would never want anyone else for the rest of my life. 

(I never did.)

Kenma nearly drops the paper. Fucking Kuroo, with his stupid fucking sappiness, a hopeless romantic’s soul trapped in the body of a delinquent looking boy. Everything he’d always wanted and never thought he could have. 

You had to be the one to kiss me once again, because if you hadn’t, I probably would’ve just stood there and stared at you for the rest of the night. I swear, it was like I was in a trance or something. And it got even worse when you kissed me. I nearly keeled over. But I tried to get myself together to brush your hair back behind your ear with my hand. You smiled up at me with that soft smile and shit, you could’ve asked me to do anything in the world at the moment and I would’ve said yes. 

I could’ve lived in that moment forever, I’ll have you know. If time had frozen right then, with just me and you, I would’ve been content for the rest of my life. I wish time had frozen right there, actually. I wish it didn’t have to be like this. I’d give everything to be right there beside you right now. 

Please pretend that I’m with you right now, my arm around you. Probably I’d kiss the top of your head. You’d elbow me away and act like you’re annoyed, but you’d secretly like it, and don’t even deny it.

Kenma doesn’t want to picture it. It feels like giving up, admitting that it’s never going to be like that again. Still, he leans into the invisible person beside him the slightest bit, almost as if on instinct. 

There’s nothing there to prop him up.

Okay, let’s go to the last place. You’re not going to like this, so I’m sorry in advance. 

I want you to go to our park.

I know you know which one, don’t act like you don’t. I know you’re not going to want to go. I know that it’s a long way, or whatever other excuse you’re gonna come up with. But please trust me, okay? It’s important. This is really important to me. And it’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. You don’t have to go immediately; take your time and go when you’re ready. But please go eventually.

What does he mean, go when you’re ready? Why wouldn’t Kenma be ready? It’s not like he’s going to be destroyed just by showing up there. Kuroo’s right, though, in a way. Kenma very much does not want to go. The park’s a long walk, and besides that, it’s somewhere he’s never gone before, and…

Well, the more he pictures it, the more Kenma’s starting to think that maybe Kuroo was right and he’s not actually ready. 

He could wait. He could go in a couple of days or a couple of weeks, when he’s got his head more straightened out. But that’d leave him with a feeling of dread, of not knowing what’s waiting for him, until he finally gets up the nerve to go. He could also just ignore Kuroo’s instructions and not go at all. It’s not like anyone would know. But then he’d feel guilty, because this does seem important to Kuroo, and…

And he still can’t deny Kuroo anything. God, he hates him.

He groans and starts walking.

It’s almost kind of relaxing, the walk to the park, if he doesn’t think about what he’s walking to the park for. But then when that thought inevitably pops back into his head, it feels like he’s on a death march, walking to his inevitable doom. He just has to get it over with and then he can… and then he can…

What, never think about Kuroo again? That doesn’t seem right. Pretend it’s not happening for a longer amount of time? Hate Kuroo even more? God, he can’t. What is there to be done in this situation? How is any of this fair?

He walks up to the park, and it’s immediate. Kuroo is everywhere. An eight-year-old Kuroo is beside him, tossing a volleyball and laughing when Kenma hits it far off into the distance. A ten-year-old Kuroo is insisting that he learn quick attacks. A thirteen-year-old Kuroo is bragging about how he’s gonna be on the national team. A sixteen-year-old Kuroo is begging him to stay on the team, because he’ll be important to the team one day. A nineteen-year-old Kuroo is kissing him reverently, gently, under the light of the setting sun, whispering that he’ll love him forever.

A twenty-four-year-old Kuroo has his hands buried in his own hair as he tells Kenma the doctors told him he has four months left to live. 

Kenma sinks his knees. Kuroo is everywhere, in the air he breathes, in the ground beneath him, everywhere , and Kenma can’t handle it. He doesn’t know how to handle it. He wants to get up and run, but that means he’d have to come back, and he can’t, he can’t.

He forces his shaking hands to pick the letter back up. 

I’m sorry to make you come here, I really am. But there’s something I had planned before… before all of this shit, and I wanted to let you know, even if I didn’t have the courage to while I was there with you.

I told you before that I planned on spending the rest of my life with you, do you remember?

No. No. No.

I had a plan, Kenma. I was going to take you here, to ask you to marry me, to be mine forever. I was so excited. You can ask Bo if you want; he was a good sport - letting me ramble on for hours about how my proposal was gonna be the best the world had ever seen. And yes, I was gonna do it here. It only seemed right. Our lives happened here. This is the single most important place to me. This is the place where we grew together, the place where we loved together, the place where we became us together. 

And then, before I could propose, everything went to shit.

So, if you will, look under the rock over beside the bleachers. The really big one.

Kenma doesn’t want to. He very much does not want to. He can’t handle seeing what’s under there. He does not want to see what could have been, what should have been. He wants to get up and high tail it out of this godforsaken park. And yet, as if moved by an invisible force, he gets to his feet with shaking legs, walks over at a painstakingly slow pace, and picks up the rock. Underneath, just as he'd feared, there’s a ring, gleaming in the light of the sunlight. Kuroo’s family ring. He’d heard Kuroo’s family muttering about it at his… at his funeral, saying that he’d taken it a while ago, but they hadn’t been able to find it since. And here it is, right in front of his eyes. He’d thought about this before. It’s inevitable, when you’re as serious about a relationship as he and Kuroo had been. He’d thought it might be nice. To wear Kuroo’s ring on his finger, to know that he belongs with him for the rest of forever, that he belongs to Kuroo and Kuroo belongs to him. And now - shit, it’s his. It’s his, and Kuroo’s not even here to put it on his finger.

The tears start to pool in the corner of Kenma’s eyes. Some kind of forever, he chides mentally. Stupid, stupid Kuroo. I hate you.

The letter keeps going.

I tried to find a time, but in between the hospital visits and the incessant family members and friends showing up to say shit to me, it never seemed to work out. Besides, it didn’t seem right to promise you a forever that I wouldn’t be able to deliver.

But yet, I do want you to know what I would’ve said. That if I could have, I would have gladly spent every day with you. So here we go.

Kozume Kenma, I have loved you most of my life. I loved you as my best friend at first, then I fell in love with you. It was the most natural thing I’ve ever done. I have never once regretted that it was you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are my support system, my pillar, my rock. You are the thing that keeps me waking up in the morning with a smile on my face. You are the first thing I want to see in the morning and the last thing I want to see before I fall asleep at night. I want you, and only you, every single day for as long as I live (and after that, too, because I feel the same way right now. I know it.). 

Will you marry me?

“Yes,” Kenma whispers, even though it’s stupid and there’s no one there and he can’t say yes, can’t do this the way it’s supposed to be done. He knows without a doubt that had Kuroo been able to ask, he would’ve said yes. He’d been saying yes to Kuroo his entire life. He’d always known that Kuroo would be his forever.

Even though it hadn’t quite worked out that way.

I wish so badly I could be with you right now. I want to be able to see your face, to hear your answer. 

Kenma, I’m so sorry. 

I’m so sorry that it ended like this. I’m so sorry that I’m not there with you anymore. I would give anything to have you not have to experience this. I love you so much, please just know that. I’m so, so sorry. But please know that you’ll never be alone, okay? I’m there with you, today and always. And you have people who love you so much. Your parents, my family, Shrimpy, Bo & Akaashi, the entirety of our old teams. You’re never alone. Please don’t push them away. 

This has to be it for me, but it’s not it for you. Please keep living without me. All I want is to see you happy, so I hope you’ll be able to find a way. God, I miss you already. 

At Kuroo’s funeral, Kenma had stood like a zombie in the audience. He’d hid his face into a tissue a couple of times, hoping that he could give the illusion of tears, but he’d still been too far in shock to be able to actually cry. He’d felt bad afterwards. Was he a bad person, if he couldn’t even cry at the funeral of the love of his life? Was there something inherently wrong with him?

But now, as he stands in this place surrounded by Kuroo , reading the words he’d written for him, the tears won’t stop flowing. He wipes at his eyes, wills them to stop, but they just keep coming. The hole in his chest feels huge. 

No one else will ever be able to fill it. There’s only ever been Kuroo for Kenma. And Kuroo is…

Kenma, my love, my heart, I know I said I’d love you until the day I die.

I want to amend that now, though. I love you forever. From the day we met, to the day I died, but even past that into forever. I may be gone but I will never, ever stop loving you.

Yours, today, the day you read this, and for the rest of our never-ending forever,

Kuro

Kenma closes the letter, feeling the tears streaming down his face, the weight of the ring on his finger, the heat of the sun of his skin, and knows for a fact that he will never, could never, ever hate Kuroo.

Kenma is desperately in love with Kuroo. Kuroo is dead. 

The world keeps turning.

Kenma takes out his phone and opens a new message. 

To : Keiji

i think i need to talk now