Chapter Text
It hurts when you need me
And I can't break your fall
It hurts when you can't see
And it hurts
I can’t breathe.
The boy clawed at his neck, trying to remove what felt like hands that were choking him. His eyes were screwed shut, trying to do something, anything that would allow him to fill his lungs with oxygen once again. He couldn’t even scream.
No one’s going to save me.
Nobody cares.
Tears had began to trickle down his face as he struggled, but… how could he fight what wasn’t there? A frantic whisper was heard to his right, and whatever he was laying on dipped with the added weight. Struggling to get away, the boy feared whatever monster was there in the dark beside him, doing this to him.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe.”
Warmth enveloped him as he felt himself get lifted off his bed and into strong arms. The hands that were leaving faint, red lines on his neck now gripping onto the other’s shirt tightly as he sobbed into it. One of the large hands moved to his head, combing through his hair slowly, caring, as the bigger male continued to speak softly into his ear.
“It’s going to be okay, I’ll protect you.”
Slender hands attempted to push the body that was on top of him to the ground. “Kuroo… Get off, you’re heavy,” his voice strained, but to no avail. The bleached blond continued to try to wake the other up, finally succeeding after what felt like half an hour. His breath was ragged, glaring pointedly at his best friend who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “There’s a reason you set up the futon, you know,” he sighed, sitting up slowly and turning to face the wall in front of him in a daze.
Dark eyes studied Kenma’s profile. He never knew when the setter was playing off his episodes in hopes that bedheaded male would do the same (which he never failed to do) or if he truly had no recollection. A mix between his trademark smirk and a smile appeared on Kuroo’s face before he lunged back onto Kenma, squeezing the poor boy into a hug and annoying the sleep-deprived teen. “Yeah, but you look like a way better pillow,” the lanky male nestled his face against the other’s neck as if to prove a point. Sadly he couldn’t hold on for much longer, seeing that Kenma’s parents knocked on the door repeatedly until they gave a response saying that they were awake.
Kuroo knew this house as if it was his own – he even treated it very similar, walking in unannounced sometimes and being welcomed with open arms. He sped through his daily routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth, as well as attempting to brush his unruly hair without success. He then quickly changed into his uniform before going back into Kenma’s room, making sure he put his belongings into his bag, save his phone, which he put in his pocket.
Now came the hard part.
Brown orbs darted towards the setter. The boy was still in the same position since Kuroo exited the room. With a sigh, the elder teen pulled Kenma up and onto his feet before dragging him into the bathroom and seating him on the now-closed toilet. Wetting Kenma’s face cloth, he helped wash any evidence of the early hours of the night – in case the boy didn’t remember. He wiped off the dried, salty tears that’s remnants stuck to his face. Finding an elastic on the counter, he paused his actions to tie up Kenma’s hair momentarily, rubbing the rest of his face and neck down before wetting the cloth once more with the coldest option, tilting the blond’s head backwards and placing the material on his eyes before prepping everything else he’d need.
It was surprising. Had anyone seen what their relationship was like, they’d probably hand off the mother role that Yaku had begrudgingly adopted to Kuroo. Honestly, he was just fussy, and would do anything for his best friend. He knew that those late night texts that woke him up (he learned to sleep with his phone on full volume unless he was with the other) meant that even though Kenma had past the point of exhaustion while gaming, he still couldn’t sleep. He didn’t even need to reply to know that Kenma would unlock the front door so that he could let himself inside the Kozume household and into Kenma’s room to help in any way that he could.
He knew that sometimes the nightmares would wake him up, leaving him reaching for help. Leaving him disoriented, having next to no recollection the next morning unless he saw his puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks and everything would flow back and overwhelm him. He knew that when that happened, Kenma would collapse on the bathroom floor, unable to breathe properly, a panic attack that Kuroo would sit through with him, doing his best to ease the pain the blond was in. He knew now that – after reading various books on anxiety and random other articles online – that he’d get rid of the evidence and that cold water would help reduce the puffiness of his friend’s eyes, enough that the other wouldn’t think much of it.
He knew that despite being observant about the world around him, Kenma never seemed to know – or care – about himself.
Every time that they went through this variation of their combined routines, Kuroo always had to bite his lip, ball his hands into a tight fist so that his nails dug into his skin. Anything, anything at all that would keep him from crying as one of the most important people in his life kept getting hurt while he had no remedy, no way to stop any of the events from happening.
But then he’d remember – Kenma was strong. Is strong. He manages to go from day to day, immersing himself in his video games, playing volleyball with their little Nekoma family. He knew that if he weres in his place, he wouldn’t have lasted this long. He wouldn’t be able to do anything, just like he wasn’t able to now. He could only watch on the sidelines, no advice in tow, nothing of benefit for Kenma. He could only weakly watch as the other boy slowly breaks – because he couldn’t be a better friend. Because he couldn’t do anything worthwhile to help the person dearest to him in any way. Because he wasn’t strong, unlike what others thought.
He was weak.