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“I’m telling you, Kuroo! I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as him.”
“I know, Bo, you’ve been repeating different versions of that sentence for the past few hours.”
“Sorry, but it’s true.”
“Look, I know you’re excited about meeting someone new, but don’t be afraid to take things slow,” Kuroo said. “He’s young, and statistics show that the newer generations embrace the simulation at much higher rates than ever.”
Bokuto paused for a moment, examining Kuroo’s expression. Kuroo cleared his throat.
“Which means, if you take things slow and all things go well, you’ll have forever to be around him.”
“Do you think…Kenma would wanna meet him next week?”
“You know that Kenma wants to start cutting the simulation out of his routine.”
“I know. I just miss him. It’s been three weeks since I last saw him, and I think he’d like Akaashi!”
Kuroo hummed.
“Please, Kuroo? Just try inviting him.”
“Okay, fine.”
“You’re the best!”
“Kuroo, you have five more minutes.”
“Our time’s almost up.”
“Already? I thought—”
Bokuto stopped abruptly and tilted his head. After a few seconds, he sighed. “Man, that went by really quickly.”
“It always does.”
“I can’t wait to be uploaded here forever!”
“That would be fun,” Kuroo said, unable to hide the distance in his voice as his thoughts circled around Kenma.
He let Bokuto ramble on in naive, carefree excitement for a few moments longer. The two friends eventually embraced each other.
“I’ll miss you,” Bokuto said. He always said this before they left San Junipero.
“Don’t worry, I’ll see you soon enough,” Kuroo said, as always.
“And Kenma!”
“We’ll see.”
“And Akaashi!”
Kuroo smiled. “For sure.”
With that, Bokuto’s beaming face shifted into the darkness that only existed behind closed eyes. Kuroo took a deep breath: the scent of the beach was gone. In its place was the sterile smell of his nursing home. He kept his eyes closed as he adjusted to the sensation of the cushy armchair underneath him. He felt gentle fingers pluck the apparatus used to connect him to the simulation from his temple. He opened his eyes to see the gentle smile of his nurse.
“Lunch is ready, Kuroo.”
“Perfect. Is Kenma in the dining hall?”
“He opted to have lunch in his own room today,” the nurse said gently, as if a softer tone would make Kuroo worry less. “He’s feeling a bit tired.”
“I’d like to eat with him.”
“Of course.”
The nurse helped Kuroo stand up, but Kuroo insisted that she let go of him as he walked. His steps were slower than usual, but still fairly stable. He wanted to be strong, or at least look strong, whenever Kenma wasn’t feeling particularly well. It was his way of feeling like he could take care of his lover if he needed to.
When he entered the room, Kenma was propped up against several pillows as he lay in bed. Kenma’s nurse fed him slowly.
“Hey, kitten.”
Kenma’s unfocused gaze sharpened as it fixated on Kuroo.
“Hello,” he replied weakly.
“Can I feed him?”
The nurses exchanged a look before Kenma’s nurse nodded. They helped set Kuroo up at the chair and table by Kenma’s bed before leaving the room.
“Just press the call button if you need us,” Kenma’s nurse said, closing the door behind her.
Kuroo broke off a piece of the baked fish and scooped it up with a portion of rice, lifting the spoonful up to Kenma’s mouth. Kenma gingerly took a bite, his gaze never leaving Kuroo’s.
“How was your morning?”
“Slept in today,” Kenma replied after swallowing carefully. “Rather, I woke up feeling really tired, so I went back to sleep.”
“You missed the morning exercises?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to join me for the afternoon one, then?”
“If I’m feeling better, sure.”
Kuroo nodded before giving Kenma another spoonful of food. Kuroo stayed silent as he fed Kenma the remainder of his meal.
When Kuroo started falling for Kenma, he was hopeful. There was so much hope for a love that would transcend lifetimes. So much hope for someone to spend paradise with.
When Kuroo discovered that Kenma had no plans of being uploaded into San Junipero after his death, he tried to come to terms that the most earnest love he ever experienced in his seventy-four years on earth had an expiration date. On most days, he was accepting of it. On some days, he believed that Kenma would choose eternity.
He wanted to believe that Kenma would choose him.
Kenma held a hand up to ask Kuroo to stop feeding him.
“Full already?” Kenma hadn’t even finished half of his meal.
“Mhm.”
Kenma was a little over a decade older than Kuroo. He had been healthy when they first met. He had even been healthier than Kuroo at one point.
Things have changed since then. Kenma was dying, and it was the little things—like being unable to finish a tiny portion of food—that broke Kuroo’s heart.
One day, a nurse approached Kuroo and said that Kenma requested to see him. Her tone was hushed. Solemn.
An overwhelming feeling of dread filled Kuroo. He stumbled in his rush to stand. The nurse reached out to steady him, but he waved her off. He walked as briskly as he could, ignoring the pain in his joints at his hastened pace.
He entered Kenma’s room. Aside from Kenma’s assigned caretaker, there was an additional nurse and a doctor standing by his bed. The doctor was speaking to Kenma, whose face was contorted in agony.
“—so euthanasia would be the least painful option at this point. I recommend—”
“Kenma!”
The staff gave way for Kuroo to approach the bedside. Kenma opened his eyes. Despite his furrowed brow, he managed to give a weak smile. He pointed at his lips. Kuroo leaned down to give him a quick kiss.
“It’ll be today,” Kenma said. The finality in his tone cut Kuroo like no other words ever did.
“Oh god, Kenma, no. No, please change your mind.”
“I love you, Kuroo. I could love you forever.”
“Then please do. Please choose to stay.”
Kenma lifted his hand and placed it against Kuroo’s cheek. Kuroo could feel his fingers trembling against his skin.
“There’s nothing left for me in this life.”
“There’s me!” A sob ripped through Kuroo. “Why isn’t that enough?”
“You’ve always been enough,” Kenma said with a tenderness that Kuroo knew he would remember for the rest of his life and beyond. “What we have is enough. Kuroo, let me die happy.”
“Please don’t do this to me,” Kuroo whispered.
Kenma drew his hand away from Kuroo’s face.
“It hurts me when you beg me to stay. Please stop.”
Kuroo wanted to be selfish. He wanted to plead and defy Kenma’s request.
It was only the sight of tears falling trailing down Kenma’s face that stopped him. Instead, he clutched Kenma’s hand against his chest and remained silent.
Kenma continued his conversation with the doctor. The euthanasia was scheduled for later that evening.
Eleven more hours until he would lose Kenma.
He would do what he could to compose himself.
He would do what he could to make Kenma laugh.
He would do what he could to tell Kenma how much he cherished the time they spent together.
What Kuroo couldn’t do, was bring himself to be in the room when they ended Kenma’s life. Before the deed, he gave Kenma one last kiss before leaving the room that he would never return to.
Had he looked back, he would have seen his lover stare longingly at his retreating figure.
Had he looked back, he would have stayed.