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“Kenma, I...I’m sorry. I don’t love you the same way you do. I’m sorry.”
Those words resonated through him. Echoing ever so loudly in his head as he replayed the scene over and over and over again. But he supposed he should have expected it. He could see that his best friend loved him, well, as a best friend did.
But…
It still hurt, and for the first time in his life, Kenma was left not knowing what to do. He shook with fury at himself for even thinking to tell him. How was he so foolish to think that the one person he loved the most, wouldn’t love him the same way.
The thorns around his chest dug themselves deeper as he tried to undo his mistake. He wanted to go back. He wanted to stop himself so he didn’t have to feel the pain, and completely regret the words that came out of his mouth.
His room became a mess. He’d torn it apart, his games and books flying off the shelves, scattered onto the floor. He was in the middle, his legs tucked into him, his chest heaving furiously. His hair was like curtains, and for once he was thankful that he had it as long as he did. He could hear someone come behind him, but he didn’t want to look. He just wanted to be left alone, to come to terms with himself and the lack of hope for him and Kuroo as nothing more than just childhood friends.
Maybe it was him. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe he wasn’t good enough to be see beyond that. He shouldn’t have spent all his time worrying about what others thought. He should have spent more time with his friend. He should have paid him attention, like he deserved.
A hand had been placed on his back, the warmth familiar, but also painful. The same warmth he didn’t deserve, that he couldn’t have. He was selfish, and he knew it was bad and terrible to want something so bad, but he wanted that warmth for himself. He wanted so bad to call it his, but he couldn’t. It was now too far of a reach.
“Kenma,” Kuroo purred, hoping to soothe him. “Kenma, I’m sorry.”
It hurt. It hurt like a million daggers were suddenly finding their way into his chest. Each digging deep, becoming painful to even breathe. He wanted to curl into himself further, he wanted so much to just stop himself. But he found his way into the others arms, clutching, gripping, digging his fingers into his shirt. His face buried deep into the others chest, muffling the sobs that now had become louder and rumbled through the both of them. His tears soaked through his shirt, and he wanted so bad for the other to pull away, to break his heart further so he didn’t have to look at him like he had a few days ago. He wanted to feel the full effect, so that he could quickly move on and pretend like nothing happened.
But he didn’t. He hushed him, speaking softly, rubbing circles into his back, giving him attention he didn’t need. But god, did he want it. As much as he wanted to break away, to stop himself, he couldn’t. His mind was swirling like a whirlpool or want and not want. And without him realizing, he could hear himself say his name over and over again.
“Kuroo...Kuroo...Kuroo…”
They stayed on the floor curled up into each other until Kenma could regain himself. Exhausted, empty, and hurt. The other carried him to his bed, picked up the mess on the floor, and soon left with a few words. And although Kenma wanted nothing to disappear, there was still a part of him that was grateful that he’d fallen in love with someone as good as his best friend.
And one day, he’d be able to come to terms, and realize that even though they couldn’t be lovers, he’d still be damn lucky to have him by his side as his friend.