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he is good and kind and honorable.
he is my north star after being lost for too long
--heather lyons, the hidden library
"I'm just saying, it was totally unrealistic. There's no way any real scientist wouldn't have a backup copy of all his projects."
"But if they had the cure right there, then there wouldn't be a story!"
"They could've come up with a different way of creating conflict without having the scientist look foolish."
"Dude, it's just a movie."
Kenma listens to the two bicker, rolling his eyes and pressing the buttons of his PSP. The four of them went to the movies that night, but apparently Kuro got distracted from the action and cool effects by, what he calls, "a misinterpretation of scientific minds."
"Maybe he just misplaced them," Akaashi offers, "and couldn't remember where they were last, so that's why they needed the originals."
Kuro scoffs. "A brilliant mind like that would never misplace anything!"
"I don't know. You smart types can be pretty scatterbrained," Bokuto says with a grin.
"You realize you just insulted yourself," Kuro says, smirking.
"Kuro, you've misplaced your glasses yesterday. And you misplace me all the time," Kenma says, glancing over at him.
Kuro turns to him with an affronted look. "That's different! You wander off on me!"
Kenma can't help but smile faintly at his indignation. "And you don't notice until later."
"Okay, okay, I get your point," Kuro says, laughing and reaching over to tug at the ends of Kenma's hair. "But I still think it was an oversight of those writers."
"Hey!" Bokuto exclaims suddenly. "I'm smart too!"
The others laugh, their conversation shifting to the restaurant they went to before the movie and what they did and didn't like about it. Kenma zones out, his attention captured by the boss he's currently battling in his game. As if to make sure Kenma's earlier point doesn't play out tonight, Kuro wraps his arm around Kenma's shoulders, pulling him close to his side. Kenma falls into step with him, grateful for the warmth and the comforting weight of his arm.
They say goodnight to Bokuto and Akaashi outside their apartment, taking the stairs two flights up to their own.
"Okay, but you're on my side, right?" Kuro asks, as they get ready for bed.
Kenma glances over at him questioningly.
"About the movie scientist," Kuro says.
"You're still on that?" Kenma asks, rolling his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that night.
"It just doesn't make sense to me how a man could lose something that important. If he's spent years of his life on this project, pouring everything he has into it, there's no way he wouldn't have made himself a backup copy and kept it close at hand, right?"
"This is really bothering you, huh?" Kenma asks, sitting cross-legged on the bed in his pajamas. "It's not really that big of a deal. In the end it worked out, right? He found the formula and was able to change everyone back. You like sappy endings like that. I think it would've been more realistic if he'd been killed by his own creations."
Kuro wrinkles his nose, flopping down onto the bed beside Kenma. "That's morbid."
"That's realistic. You don't always get happy endings in real life."
"We got one," Kuro says, wrapping his arms around Kenma's waist and nuzzling his nose into his hip.
Kenma snorts but reaches down to run his fingers through Kuro's hair. "You're ridiculous. Stop talking like we're some old couple."
Kuro just grins. He snuggles closer, curling his body around Kenma's, and after a moment Kenma lies down on his side with his back against Kuro's chest. He plays his PSP for a while, listening to Kuro's soft breaths, as they start to deepen and even out.
"Hey Kenma?" he mumbles after a moment.
"Hm."
"Even if I misplace you sometimes, I always find you again."
"I know."
"I just didn't want you to worry . . ."
"I'm not worried."
"Mmkay . . ."
Kenma waits for more, but Kuro's silent. After a few seconds it's clear that he's fallen asleep. Kenma continues to play his game, late into the night, until exhaustion takes hold, and the console slips from his fingers.
Kenma wakes with a shiver. For a moment he lies still, disoriented. But then his surroundings come into focus. He's lying in an alley, his backpack serving as a pillow. It's early morning, the sun not yet risen. The sky is turning pale pinks and purples, as he sits up slowly and pulls on the oversized hoodie he'd been using as a blanket.
He grimaces as he stands, rising up on his toes to stretch his hands behind his head. His back cracks, as does his neck when he rolls it, but once he's finished shaking out his arms and legs he feels better. Except . . .
His stomach growls. Pressing his hand against it, he bites his lip, looking to his backpack. He brought money, but considering he has no idea what type of currency they use in this place, he's hesitant to try and buy anything, worried about looking like a fool.
The only thing he has that he knows will work is the pendant around his neck. And as he reaches up to stroke the bump it makes beneath his shirt and hoodie, he knows he'd rather starve than give it up. It's his only way back home.
He picks up his backpack, slinging it around one shoulder. The streets are quiet still; the only ones awake seem to be the store owners opening their shops. Kenma steps out onto the sidewalk, moving carefully. He's still unused to whatever transparent materials these people use to build their roads and walkways. He can see below to the streets and shops in the lower levels, and when he tilts his head back he can see the next level high above him.
He knows he has to get to the top level. That's where the palace is.
Stepping over to the nearest bakery, he looks in at the goods on display with his mouth watering. He can't remember when it was the last time he ate. He knew it was before he arrived at this level, but has it been three days or two? Or wait, has it been four?
The bread is tinged pink, and it looks soft and fluffy, like it could melt in your mouth. The baker setting the display looks up, and Kenma points to the nearest loaf without thinking.
"Seventeen roksha," the man says in his native tongue. The pendant around Kenma's neck grows warm as it translates into Japanese.
Kenma bites his lip. "I don't have roksha," he admits.
"Then no bread," the baker says, shaking his head and turning back to his display.
Kenma contemplates just snatching a loaf and taking off, but he doesn't trust his legs to run fast enough, and by the look of the spherical security camera hovering just above the front door of the bakery, he wouldn't get far before the authorities caught him.
So he turns away with a sigh and starts his trek down the street toward the public lift. That, at least, is free.
The lift is a long, circular vehicle that runs along a suspended track like a train. Its walls are blessedly opaque, and the lighting inside is dim, a courtesy to the early morning riders. A young woman with soft blue fur covering her body sits beside him, cradling an infant in her arms. Kenma stares at the blue child for a moment before turning his gaze away, a lump rising in his throat.
"Hey, do you think we should have kids one day?" Kuro pokes his leg with the eraser of his pencil.
Kenma doesn't hesitate before answering. "No."
Kuro looks up from his textbook. "No?"
Kenma stares back at him placidly. "I'm not good with kids. They hate me."
"No, they don't."
"Once a kid told me, 'You're boring.'"
"Were you playing your game?"
"Yeah."
"Then that's why they said that! When you're with kids you gotta engage with them for them to like you."
Kenma rolls his eyes. "I don't want to engage with them. They're loud and . . . sticky." He wrinkles his nose.
"Our kid wouldn't be sticky." Kuro shakes his head.
"But they'd be loud," Kenma says with absolute confidence.
Kuro laughs. "You're probably right about that."
"We should get a cat instead," Kenma decides.
"A cat like you?" Kuro teases.
"Yes."
Kuro laughs again, his entire body shaking.
"Are you okay?"
Kenma blinks, the echo of Kuro's laugh fading from his mind. He looks over at the blue lady beside him. She's watching him with large black eyes, her head tilted in concern. Ducking his head, he allows his hair to fall in front of his face, shielding him as he nods quickly.
"I'm fine."
She doesn't speak again the rest of the ride.
***
They come for him in the middle of the night. Kenma wakes to a bright blue light and when he rubs sleep from his eyes, he sees the portal, shimmering like water in the center of the room. He thinks he's dreaming at first, as the three men step out of the portal and approach the bed. He doesn't react fast enough. One of the men grabs his arm, yanking him off the bed and injecting something into his neck. He cries out, but a moment later the man releases him.
"This isn't him," he says, looking at a strange metal container in his hand that's beeping some sort of code.
Kuro must have heard him yell. He's such a deep sleeper; he's slept through earthquakes before. But at Kenma's cry, he wakes, sitting straight up in bed.
"What's going on?" he demands, his voice still groggy with sleep. "Kenma?"
Kenma's voice sticks in his throat, and he's unable to warn him, unable to do anything, as the men grab him. He struggles, but with three against one and Kuro still disoriented, they easily subdue him and inject his neck. The results they get are apparently different however, because immediately they release him and bow deeply.
"Your Highness, you need to come with us immediately. We've been searching the galaxies—"
"Wait, what's going on? Where's Kenma?"
The men exchange glances. "You don't remember," the one who spoke before says. He has dark hair and orange eyes, brighter than any color Kenma's seen on a person. "You are the eldest son of our late king, and heir to the throne of Elmaethia. You were sent away for your protection, but you were supposed to be taught . . ." He turns to look at Kenma. "Is this what held you back?"
Kenma shrinks back from the gaze, but Kuro simply looks bewildered.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Kuro asks, a strangled, half-hysterical laugh bubbling out of him. "Did Bokuto put you up to this?"
"Kuro . . ." Kenma speaks for the first time, and he hates how tremulous his voice sounds.
Kuro whips his head around, looking for him. When he sees him on the floor, clutching at his neck, his eyes widen. He scrambles off the bed, but before he can reach Kenma, the man with the orange eyes grabs his arm.
"Your Highness, we must get you back to your kingdom."
"I'm not . . . this isn't—"
"You don't belong here. Your place is with your people."
"Get off me!" Kuro spins around, punching the man in the jaw.
As he stumbles back, the other two grab Kuro. He struggles, he throws punches and kicks, but these men must be military trained, because they faster, more agile, and are able to drag him to the portal.
"Kenma!" Kuro shouts.
Kenma scrambles to his feet, but he doesn't know what to do. What should he do? Running forward, he jumps onto the back of one of the men, throwing his weight backwards in an attempt to get him away from Kuro. But the man easily knocks him off, and Kenma falls to the floor with a thump.
He stands quickly, but before he can try again the men have stepped through the portal and are gone. The portal shrinks, and when Kenma leaps forward it's gone.
He's left alone in the room, clutching something in his hand. When he looks down he sees a pendant on a broken chain. He must have grabbed it off the man's neck without realizing. Numbers and words he can't read flash across its surface in florescent green. He curls his palm around it, and clutches it tightly.
He's going to get Kuro back.
***
That was two months ago. He researched the pendent, found it to be alien technology. He tested its functions and discovered it could open portals to other planets, other dimensions. And after gathering supplies into his backpack, he stepped through the portal into this strange, busy world.
He landed at the lowest level and it's taken him two weeks to get this far. He's run out of food, but he's so close to the end, so close to Kuro. He's not going to give up.
I should've done more to stop them. I shouldn't have just sat there like an helpless child.
It's no use beating himself up about it, he knows. He has to keep moving forward. He has to make it to Kuro.
A soft bell sounds, signaling the next stop. He watches as people enter and exit and the lift moves again. As the sun rises, the walls become transparent, gradually, until the artificial lights go out and sunlight streams through. Kenma looks out at the people walking on the streets, all of them caught up in their own thoughts, each with their own goals.
He's seen evidence of Kuro's rule, even in the short time he's been here. People talk fondly of their king. He sees digital magazines full of things Kuro's accomplished, how he's made life better for his citizens.
Yet not a single part of him feels guilty about being here to take Kuro back. This isn't his home. His home is with Kenma, in their little apartment off campus. His home is with their broken toaster, and the holes in the wall from when he and Bokuto played darts while drunk. His home is the laughter they share, the negative space between their bodies, as they make love.
Kenma wraps his arms around his stomach, holding himself tightly. He breathes slowly, deeply. In through his nose, out through his mouth. The tightness in his chest doesn't alleviate completely, but it becomes more manageable.
Everything's going to be fine. They'll be fine. As soon as he gets Kuro home, everything will go back to the way it was.
He tells himself this, because he has to, but he doesn't believe it.
The lift finally reaches the highest level. The air is thinner here, making it more difficult to breathe, but Kenma steps out purposefully, not slowing his steps until he reaches the largest building in the city.
It's all chrome and glass; its spires disappearing into the clouds. Its doors are mirrored, reflecting the sun and nearly blinding Kenma before he gets close enough for the perspective to shift. He stares at himself in them for a moment, taking in the rumpled state of his clothes, the circles beneath his eyes, the paleness of his skin. His hair is a mess, limp and stringy from days without showering. He's pretty sure he smells too.
He doesn't have access to a shower or bath, though, so he presses the button by the door with a sigh.
"State your business," a voice booms from overhead.
"I'm here to see the king."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No."
The voice is quiet but the doors swing open. Kenma walks through, his sneakers squeaking softly on the polished floor. The walls of the palace are not transparent, apparently allowing for the king to have his privacy. The entry-way is large and empty, and his footsteps echo throughout the chamber.
"Please proceed to door number three."
Kenma looks around, noticing then the doors with green numbers hovering in front of them. He walks down to the third door, his heart hammering in his chest. As he arrives in front of it, the door slides open with a soft hiss. Stepping into the room, he sees a lounge area with a couch, two chairs, and a table in the center with a bowl of what appears to be fruit, though it's lumpy and a weird maroon color.
Kenma taps at one with his finger, making sure it's not artificial, before quickly grabbing it and biting into it. Tart juice bursts onto his tongue, and it's strong but his stomach growls until he finishes the entire thing and reaches for another.
"Please wait for His Majesty's arrival."
Kenma doesn't acknowledge the voice, content on stuffing his face. A few minutes go by and he clears the entire bowl. He's sucking the juice off his fingers when the door opens again and Kuro steps through the door.
He looks different. He's wearing close-fitting pants of stark white, and a long-sleeved shirt of the same color beneath a dark blue vest. His hair has been cut short, no longer subject to his old ridiculous bed-head, and a band of silver rests on his forehead, encircling his head. When he sees Kenma his eyes widen in surprise, and Kenma doesn't think twice before flying across the room to throw his arms around him.
"Release His Majesty immediately," the voice booms in indignation.
Kenma ignores it, squeezing Kuro tighter around the waist. He smells different, but he feels the same. He's warm and solid, and tears of relief prickle the corners of his eyes. Kuro stands stiffly in his hug, not returning it. In his joy at having Kuro in his arms once more, Kenma doesn't register this until the voice speaks again, louder than before.
"RELEASE HIS MAJESTY IMMEDIATELY OR YOU WILL BE REMOVED FROM THE PREMISES."
"Calm down, Wartnak," Kuro says, and he speaks familiarly, as though he knows the voice well. "He's not doing any harm."
He places his hands on Kenma's shoulders, however, pushing him back in order to look down at him. "Are you okay?" he asks gently, and though his eyes are full of compassion, his face is a mask.
Kenma realizes with a sudden drop of his stomach that Kuro doesn't recognize him.
"It's me," he gasps, unable to believe this is happening. His throat closes up, his chest tightening. The fruit in his stomach churn, and he feels sick. "It's . . . I'm Kenma."
Kuro looks at him in bewilderment. "I'm sorry; do I know you?"
Kenma pulls away from his hands, stumbling back. He shakes his head again and again. This can't be happening. What did they do to you?
"It's Kenma. I'm Kenma," he says again, helplessly. His hands tremble at his sides. He curls them into fists.
"I'm sorry, I don't know you," Kuro says apologetically. "You look unwell. You should sit . . ."
He takes a step forward, hand reaching for Kenma's shoulder, but Kenma whirls around, glaring up at the security camera hovering above.
"You took his memories so he would stay," he says, his voice breaking on the words. "You knew he would try to get back to me, so you took me away from him! Give him back now! He doesn't belong to you!"
The voice doesn't reply.
Kuro glances from Kenma to the camera and back again. "I'm afraid I don't know what's going on," he says helplessly. "Am I . . . supposed to know you?"
Kenma turns back, grabbing Kuro's hands in his. "Look at me," he says desperately. He focuses his gaze on Kuro's face, on his eyes full of confusion. "Look."
Kuro stares back at him, but comprehension never dawns, his expression doesn't clear. He shakes his head slowly. "I'm sorry. I don't—"
"I'm Kenma! I'm your Kenma! We live together on Earth. We grew up together. We're best friends. We're more than that!"
But Kuro is still shaking his head. "I grew up here on Elmaethia. My family has ruled this planet for generations—"
"No! No, no, no, that's what they put in your head. That's not the truth!" Kenma knows he sounds crazy. He can tell he's going into hysterics. It's so unlike him, but the fact that he can feel Kuro slipping through his fingers makes him want to scream and shout and hit something. But Kuro's the only one here, and none of this is his fault.
Kuro's eyes are wide. The sound of multiple footsteps echoes from the hallway. Before Kenma can say anything else, a security team bursts into the room. They grab Kenma, pulling him away from Kuro.
Kenma struggles. He kicks and tries to pull away, even as they lift him off the ground. Kuro seems stricken, and he takes a step forward.
"Wait," he says hesitantly, even as the team begins to drag Kenma from the room.
"Wait!" he says again, hurrying after them into the hall.
"Your Majesty, I apologize for this breach of security." One of the men, with a silver medal on his chest, turns from the group to address Kuro. "We won't allow him to accost you again."
"He wasn't accosting me," Kuro says, frowning faintly. "He's upset, can't you see that? Put him down."
The captain turns to the rest of his men, nodding for them to obey. They lower Kenma to the floor, and he wrenches his arms away from their loosened grasps, rubbing at the places where they'd held him. He turns his eyes to the floor, not allowing himself to hope that Kuro remembers. He's just being kind.
He's always been kind.
"Give him a room and access to a shower and some food."
"But . . . Your Majesty—"
"Do as I say," Kuro says sharply, in his voice that allows for no arguments.
The captain doesn't look pleased by this development, but he bows at the waist before turning to look at Kenma.
"Follow me," he says, starting down the hall.
Kenma hesitates, looking back at Kuro, but Kuro only smiles and gives him an encouraging nod. "Go with him," he says. "I'll check in on you later, and you can explain what you told me before."
Kenma has no illusions about where he's being taken. As soon as Kuro is out of sight, he's not surprised when the captain turns to him with a scowl. His orange eyes flash, and Kenma's heart beats faster, as he recognizes him from that night.
"You," he hisses. "How did you get here?"
Kenma stares back at him without a word.
"You will not take our king from us, do you understand? Our world needs him. You are one person. Elmaethia is an entire planet. How can one person mean more than an entire planet of people?"
Kenma frowns. Will he mean more to Kuro if he remembers? Or will his sense of duty, his kindness and compassion lead him to put his people ahead of Kenma? Kenma knows Kuro. He knows the heart of him. He knows he can't stand by and watch people suffer.
There has to be a way. There has to be someone who can take Kuro's place, be a good ruler in his stead.
"Find someone else," Kenma says flatly.
"Excuse me?" the captain narrows his eyes.
"Find another king. Kuro's home is Earth. His home is with me. You took his memories and created false ones. What he feels for this place isn't real." He shakes his head. "You never gave him a choice. You're forcing him into this role. That isn't right. Give him back his memories, and if he wants to stay then . . . then I'll leave. I'll leave and never come back and you can keep your king."
"And if he doesn't want to stay?" the captain asks, raising an eyebrow.
Kenma lifts his chin. "Then you let him go and find someone else."
"I could simply kill you, you know," the captain says. "Say you fell off one of our many balconies. His Majesty may be saddened by your demise, but he wouldn't think anything of it after a day. You no longer mean anything to him."
Kenma's gut clenches at these words, and it takes everything in him not to flinch. "So kill me," he says. "But if you do, and he finds out about it, do you really think he'd let you go without punishment? Kuro isn't stupid. He can read people just as well as I can, maybe even better. If you tell him I fell, he'd know you're lying."
The captain studies Kenma, and Kenma doesn't back down or turn away his gaze. Finally, the captain nods.
"Very well. We'll do this your way. But if we're giving him choices, he should choose whether or not he wants his memories back."
Kenma nods. "He will," he says, with a confidence he doesn't feel. "Now take me to that room and bring me food."
The room is luxurious and bigger than any place Kenma has ever stayed before. The bed is large enough for four people to lie on their backs side by side, and the bathtub could hold just as many. He showers first, washing away the dirt and sweat from his journey, before he climbs into the bath. It's difficult to relax when he recalls where he is and what's happened to Kuro, but as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, he finds his mind wandering.
"Kuro, stop it," Kenma complains, as Kuro splashes him for the third time in five minutes.
Kuro grins at him. "Put down the game. If it falls in the water you're going to pout for days."
Conceding Kuro has a point, Kenma turns off the PSP and sets it aside. When he turns back to Kuro, he gets another splash of water, this time directly in his face. He sputters, while Kuro laughs, and he splashes back harder. Kuro grins, retaliating, and a brief war commences. It ends only when Kenma crawls on top of Kuro and dunks his head beneath the water. He comes up sputtering and yelling "uncle! uncle!" and Kenma smirks in victory.
"You minx," Kuro says fondly, shaking the water off his face. He wraps his arms around Kenma and holds him close to his chest, stealing a kiss.
Kenma sets his hand on Kuro's shoulder, but he doesn't push him away. Instead he kisses him back, long and slow. Kuro sinks deeper into the water, pulling Kenma down with him. He goes willingly, the warm water lapping against his hips and chest. He bites down on Kuro's lower lip, tugging into his mouth to suck on it. Kuro moans, the sound vibrating through his chest and Kenma's. His arms tighten around him, holding him closer, as close as he can.
Kenma opens his eyes. Lowering his head, he stares across at the other side of the tub. The empty space feels denser than before. His chest aches, and before the tears can make themselves known, he takes a breath and ducks beneath the water. It's quiet, all sound muffled.
It's then that he allows himself to scream.
He's sitting in the center of the massive bed, dressed in loose, soft clothes made of an unfamiliar material. It feels weightless, like he's wearing clouds, yet it keeps him warm. His stomach is full, satisfied by the food brought to him. When Kuro enters, he doesn't stand to bow. He watches instead, expression arranged in a careful mask, as Kuro approaches.
Instead of the suit from before, he's dressed more casually. A black shirt with a low collar that dips below his clavicle. The pants he's wearing are black also, but unlike the ones he was wearing earlier, they don't cling to his legs.
"Are you comfortable?" he asks conversationally, standing a few feet from the bed still.
Kenma nods.
"I apologize for earlier. My security team can be rather . . . protective."
Kenma blinks.
Kuro rubs the back of his neck. "You . . . you said something before that had me thinking. It's true I don't remember you, but you seem so genuine . . . I'm pretty good at reading people, and I don't think you're trying to deceive me."
Kenma doesn't respond, but his pulse races. He curls his fingers around the cuffs of his sleeves, holding them tightly.
"But it doesn't make sense. How could you know me, when I have no recollection of you? You're not from here, that's obvious. So how did you get here? And there are things . . . things about my past that are hazy to me. Sometimes my mind . . . glitches. I called someone 'Bo' the other day, even though I know that's not their name. But it seemed so right . . . I don't know anyone named Bo."
"You do," Kenma replies softly. "Bokuto Koutarou. He's your best friend."
Kuro tilts his head. "I thought you said you are my best friend?"
"I am," Kenma says, tensing. "But it's . . . different. With us."
Kuro takes a step forward. "How is it different? How do I know you?"
"It doesn't matter now," Kenma mutters, looking down at his hands. "You don't remember me."
"Kenma," Kuro says softly, and he says it so like himself that Kenma's throat tightens. "Look at me."
Slowly, Kenma lifts his gaze. Kuro's standing right beside the bed now, and he studies Kenma, his eyes roaming over every inch of his face. He raises his hands, tilting his head to the side.
"May I?" he asks.
Kenma nods, not trusting his voice to speak. Kuro sits on the bed, shifting so that he's sitting cross-legged in front of Kenma. He reaches forward, taking Kenma's face in both his hands. Kenma suppresses a shiver. He resists the urge to lean into his touch, to reach for Kuro himself. He bites his lip in an effort to keep himself still, and his teeth break through the skin. Kuro frowns slightly, moving his thumb to ease Kenma's lip out of his grasp.
"There's something about you," Kuro admits quietly, running his thumb along the cut in Kenma's lip, sending tingles across Kenma's skin. "I don't know what it is. I feel like I should know you." His eyes move from Kenma's lip to his eyes, and there's a question there.
"How were we different?" he asks then. "Can you show me?"
Kenma leans forward without further prompting. He curls his fingers into the front of Kuro's shirt, gripping tightly, as he presses his lips against his. He can hear a clicking noise from above them, probably another camera, but he ignores it. Kuro's lips are soft, pliant, and they move with Kenma's without much guidance. His hands move to Kenma's shoulders, before running down his sides to his hips.
Kenma shudders, aching to move closer, to crawl into Kuro's lap and lose himself in him just like he always has. But this isn't the Kuro he knows. It wouldn't be the same. And so he pulls back after a moment, eyes finding the blankets, as his hands return to his lap.
Kuro's hands tremble, before they fall away as well. "So," he says, and his voice catches on a gasp for breath. "That's what we were like."
That and more. So much more.
"They took you away in the middle of the night," Kenma says softly. "You fought against them but they overpowered you. I tried to help. I got this off of one of them." He reaches into his shirt to pull out the pendant. "This is how I was able to follow you. I figured out how it worked and opened a portal . . ."
"You came all the way from Earth just to find me?" Kuro asks, reaching for the pendant. His fingers brush against Kenma's, and Kenma quickly moves his hand away. "Our technology is much more advanced than yours, yet you figured this out?"
"I had to," Kenma states plainly, watching Kuro's face.
Kuro drops the pendant, and it falls against Kenma's sternum with a soft thud.
"If what you say is true, and I have been planted with false memories, do you think I would abandon my planet if I asked for my own back?"
Kenma doesn't know how to answer. He looks down at his hands again, his chest aching. "I don't know," he admits. "You're a good person. You're kind . . . I don't think you'd want to leave them without a ruler if that's what they need."
Kuro tilts his head. "But what about you?"
Kenma smirks derisively. "You'd tell me you love me, but if you felt like these people needed you, you wouldn't leave them for me. You're stupidly noble like that."
"But . . . that would hurt you."
Kenma doesn't reply. He shrugs one shoulder, looking away across the room. "And you would suffer for hurting me, but you'd still do the right thing."
"Would you stay with me?" Kuro asks, reaching for Kenma's face. He cups his cheek, turning his head to face him. "If I asked you to stay and rule by my side, would you?"
Kenma blinks back at him. "I'm not a ruler. I don't even like people."
"But you came all this way for me," Kuro says, tilting his head. "You obviously care deeply for me, so why wouldn't you stay?"
Kenma huffs, frustrated. "It wouldn't be the same. This isn't our home. This isn't your home."
"I don't know what to do," Kuro admits helplessly.
Kenma looks away again. He wants to tell him to leave. To be selfish for once in his life and come home with him. But he doesn't want to force his hand. He wants to give him the choice. So he remains silent, staring at the blanket beneath them as though it holds the answer.
"I don't like the thought of being manipulated into this position," Kuro says after a moment. "I'll ask for my memories back. But I can't guarantee that I'll be able to give you the result you want."
Kenma nods, knowing it would come to this. Kuro leans forward and kisses his forehead, before sliding off the bed to stand. "I'll send for you in the morning. In the meantime, sleep well."
Kenma nods again, out of words. There's nothing else he can say. He's said all he can. Now it's up to Kuro.
He lies down on top of the covers, curling into a ball and pulling a pillow close to his chest. His heart pounds loudly in his ears, and he doesn't fall asleep until exhaustion takes him in the early hours of the morning.
"Your presence is requested in the throne room," the guard says.
Kenma's already dressed in his clothes from home (now washed and pressed), backpack on his shoulder. He follows the guard out into a long hall to a glass elevator that takes them to the very top of the palace's tallest spire. The throne room is circular, its walls made of transparent glass like the lifts. It's dizzying, but Kenma plants himself in the center of the room, and fixes his gaze on the empty throne in front of him. His stomach is tied up in knots. His hands are clammy with sweat, and he wipes them on his jeans over and over in a nervous tic.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of waiting, the elevator doors open again. Kuro steps out, dressed like before with the tight white pants and shirt, only this time his vest is a deep red. Kenma finds himself holding his breath, unable to read Kuro's expression, as he draws nearer.
He stops in front of Kenma then, and his gaze softens. His mouth lifts in a crooked smile.
"Hey, kitten," he says softly.
Kenma stifles a sob of relief, launching himself forward like he did just yesterday, only this time Kuro's waiting for him, and he hugs him back tightly. He buries his face in Kenma's hair, and Kenma clutches at the back of his vest, nails digging into the fabric in an effort to pull him closer.
"Can we go home now?" Kenma asks in a small voice, barely trusting his voice to speak.
Kuro sighs, threading his fingers through the hair at the back of Kenma's head. "I remember everything now," he admits. "I was sent to Earth when I was six because of a threat on my life. My parents . . . they weren't really my parents. They were guardians sent with me. They were supposed to tell me about my heritage when I was eighteen, tell me all about this place and what I was supposed to do. But . . . by that time I'd already fallen completely head over heels for you, and I guess they couldn't figure out a way to break the news to me."
Kenma pulls back to look up at him. He doesn't know what this means. Does Kuro want to stay or not? Biting his lip, Kuro gently brushes Kenma's hair behind his ear, tugging on the ends of the strands gently.
"Wartnak and his men shouldn't have burst in the way they did, but they were desperate. They shouldn't have taken away my memories either, but apparently I wouldn't let them explain. I was too frantic to get back to you to see reason."
Kenma's heart sinks into his stomach. "So, you're staying," he says flatly, stepping back out of his embrace.
"Kenma, they need me here. They don't have anyone else to rule," Kuro says helplessly. "But you can stay too! They told me you could . . ."
"And what about Bokuto? Akaashi? What about wanting to be a biochemist?" Kenma asks, holding his hands out to the side. "You're going to give up your whole life with us for people you don't even know?"
Kuro looks back at him, his expression torn. "I-I don't want to," he admits. "I want to go home with you. But I don't think it's the right thing to do."
"Why do you have to be the hero all the time?" Kenma demands, hands clenching into fists. "You don't always have to save everyone!"
"I can't leave them with nothing!" Kuro says, his volume rising as well. "They don't deserve that!"
"YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS!" Kenma shouts. "And neither do I!"
The guards that arrived with Kuro step forward, but Kuro waves them back. "I'm trying to do the right thing, Kenma. But we don't have to be split up. You can stay with me. Be my partner . . ."
"I don't want to be a ruler of a foreign planet," Kenma says flatly. "You don't either, so just tell them no."
"Saying 'no' has always been easy for you," Kuro snaps. "You don't care who you hurt, who you leave hanging, so long as you always get what you want."
Kenma steps back, the words feeling like a slap in the face. Kuro's scowl instantly fades. He covers his face with his hands with a groan, sliding them down after a moment.
"Kenma, Kenma, I didn't mean that," he says, reaching for him, but Kenma shifts out of reach.
"You did mean it, otherwise you wouldn't have said it," Kenma says stiffly. "Is that what you think? You think I don't care? I'm here for you. You were happy with me back on Earth, weren't you? You're not happy here; you won't be happy here. Not even if I'm with you. The responsibilities will weigh on you. You'll carry the burden of this entire world on your shoulders, and you shouldn't have to. It was their choice to send you away, to give you a different life. How can they expect you to go from one to the other just like that? They don't, obviously, that's why they took away your memories."
He looks over at the captain of security. "People like them, they don't make plans like that without having some sort of backup. How were they to know that you'd be completely safe back on Earth? Things happen. Accidents. Assassinations. There is someone else, isn't there? Not their first choice, but a second one. A Plan B."
Kuro turns to look at his captain, frowning slightly. "Is that true? Do you have someone else?"
The captain sighs. "There's . . . a cousin of yours who lives here on Elmaethia. He's far down the line from the throne, which is why he's never been in danger."
"Would he make a good king?" Kuro asks, his frown deepening.
"He's . . . a good man, yes. But you're a direct bloodline. You were the ideal choice, and you've done so well during the short time you've been here, just like we knew you would."
"But you didn't give me a choice," Kuro says, the anger returning, this time directed at his captain. "You took me away from my home and the only family I've ever known. You took away my memories of them . . . and you're telling me all along there's been another candidate? Did you even ask him if he wanted to be king?"
"No, we didn't," the captain says honestly.
"Send for him."
"But—"
"Go!"
The captain purses his lips. He bows deeply before turning toward the elevator. Kuro waits until he's gone before facing Kenma once more. His expression softens, apology written all over his features.
"Kenma, I—"
Kenma shakes his head. "I'm sorry too."
"How long has it been?"
Kenma swallows hard. "Two and a half months."
"Fuck," Kuro breathes, grimacing. "You've been looking for me that long?"
Kenma nods.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He steps forward, wrapping his arms around Kenma once more. Kenma hugs him back tightly, burying his face in his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.
"It's not your fault," Kenma murmurs. "Like you said, they didn't give you a choice."
"I can't believe I didn't realize. I should've known. I should've known something was missing."
"It's okay . . ."
"No, it's not. Kenma," Kuro pulls back, holding onto his shoulders, as he looks into his face. "Do you even realize how much I love you? How much you mean to me? You're as much a part of me as my own heart. To think I didn't even notice—"
Kenma lifts up on his toes, cutting him off with a firm kiss. He doesn't want to see Kuro beat himself up over something that wasn't his fault. All that matters is that they're together now, and that Kuro's coming home.
Kuro moves one hand up to hold the side of Kenma's face, stroking his thumb along his cheekbone. He kisses him back deeply with a soft murmur, stepping closer, as his other hand moves to Kenma's waist. Kenma clutches the lapels of his vest tightly, tilting his head more to get a better angle, as he nibbles on Kuro's bottom lip until he opens for him. He licks inside, feeling the tremor that runs through Kuro, as he moans.
Kuro's hand moves to the small of his back, pushing up beneath his shirt and hoodie in order to touch his skin. Kenma shivers in response, wishing they weren't in the middle of a throne room with windows all around them. He's missed Kuro so much; the ache in his chest blooms sharper, and he wants nothing more than to feel Kuro against him. To touch him, taste him, prove to himself that this is real and the nightmare that's been the past two and a half months is over.
One of the guards coughs awkwardly, and Kenma pulls away, his face on fire. Kuro makes an annoyed sound, turning to frown at the man.
"Is there a problem?" he asks.
"No, Your Majesty," the guard says, straight-faced.
Kenma hides his face in Kuro's shirt, stifling a laugh despite his embarrassment. Kuro runs his hand over the back of Kenma's head, tenderly.
"Sorry. I'd send them away if I could, but I don't know when Wartnak will return."
So that's Wartnak. The ugly name suits him.
Kenma snorts softly, nuzzling closer. "It's fine," he says, content to just be close to Kuro. For now.
It's another hour before Wartnak returns with a newcomer. The man beside him is older than Kuro by a few years, but his eyes are youthful. Kenma can't really see the similarities between them, though. This man's face is broader, as are his shoulders, and his eyes are green, not dark gold.
He bows low before Kuro. "Your Majesty," he says. "I was told you had a request?"
"You know who you are?" Kuro asks, standing from where he'd been sitting on the throne with Kenma in his lap. He sets Kenma down beside him, striding forward to meet the man.
"My name is Tyr, and I'm the third cousin of his late majesty the king," Tyr states plainly.
"So you do know your heritage."
"Yes, ever since I was small. I was always told that if anything happened to the heir that I might need to rule, but honestly that seemed very unlikely," Tyr says, his lips twisting in a wry grin.
"I never asked to be king," Kuro says. "And frankly, I'd rather not be. I was content and happy living on Earth with my friends and the only family I've ever known. I know nothing of this land and its laws aside from what's been explained to me, and I have no loyalty to this planet aside from my sense of duty. If I were to abdicate my throne and give it over to you, do you think that'd be a position you'd be able to manage well?"
"Ah, well, Your Majesty . . . I'm not perfect," Tyr says, and he rubs the back of his neck in a way that makes Kenma start in recognition. "I mean, I love my city and my planet, but I don't know anything about ruling."
"Does anyone who assumes the throne?" Kuro asks. "It's a position that requires hard work and dedication and patience. You'll make mistakes, everyone does, but it's how you handle the consequences that will determine whether or not you're a good king."
"Are you sure you want to leave?" Tyr asks. "You sound pretty well suited to the job."
"My home isn't here," Kuro says, shaking his head. He steps over to where Kenma stands, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Kenma leans back against him, warmth filling his chest at the familiar weight and comfort of his arm. "I belong back on Earth."
Tyr nods slowly. "I understand. I accept your proposition. Thank you for believing in me."
Wartnak looks displeased. "Announcing this shift in power is going to cause a commotion no matter which way we play it."
"You'll figure it out," Kuro says coldly. He moves his arm from around Kenma, taking his hand instead. He laces his fingers through Kenma's and gives it a firm squeeze. "I'm going home."
Kenma reaches for the pendant. Before Wartnak can make another protest, he's completed the sequence to create a portal. Together, they step through, out of Elmaethia and back to Earth.
***
"Dude! That's crazy! You were a king?"
Kenma can hear Bokuto's voice through Kuro's phone even from where he lies on the bed. Kuro's sitting across the room at his desk, smirking, as he tilts his chair back.
"Yep!" he says smugly. "Wore a crown and everything."
"Dude. I can't believe you gave that up to be a biochemist."
"Being king didn't really suit me," Kuro says, shrugging. "Too many responsibilities. Not enough freedom. And I couldn't be a biochemist if I was king, so naturally I had to come back."
Kuro catches Kenma's stink-eye and winks. Kenma huffs, turning onto his stomach to continue playing his game.
"That's lame," Bokuto says. "It would've been awesome to see that place though. Does Kenma still have the pendant?"
"Yeah, but we've hidden it away. It's kinda dangerous to have that sort of technology lying around, you know?"
"You're no fun at all," Bokuto complains.
"I'm plenty fun. I'm so fun that I'm going to kick your ass at bowling next Friday."
"Oh, you're so going down!"
They banter back and forth for a while before Kuro hangs up. He goes over to the bed, flopping down on top of Kenma and nuzzling the back of his head with his face.
"Get off, you're heavy," Kenma complains.
"Don't be mad," Kuro says, though Kenma can hear the grin in his voice. "Did you want me to say 'the power of love compelled me to return'? Or something equally sappy?"
"No," Kenma admits with a grumble.
"So stop pouting," Kuro says, running his hand along Kenma's side, sneaking up under his shirt. He strokes his fingertips along his ribs, and Kenma shivers. Kuro removes his hand then to push Kenma's hair back behind his ear, mouthing at the shell of it gently.
"I don't think I ever said thank you," he murmurs. "You were right. I wouldn't have been happy there."
"I might be selfish, but I care about you," Kenma says, his cheeks feeling warm, as he tries to concentrate on his game. He frowns faintly. "I don't only do things for myself."
"I know," Kuro says softly. "It was unfair of me to accuse you of that. Do you forgive me?"
Kenma finishes his level and saves it before turning off the game. He sets it on the bedside table, before he turns around to look up at Kuro.
"Yeah. Do you forgive me?" Kenma asks, reaching up to push his fingers through Kuro's hair. It's only been a couple weeks since their return, and it's still too short for Kenma's liking.
"Why do I need to forgive you?" Kuro asks, turning his head to kiss the inside of Kenma's wrist.
"For losing you," Kenma says quietly, feeling more than just the weight of Kuro on his chest.
"Oh, Kenma," Kuro sighs, leaning down to kiss him deeply.
Kenma's chest aches, and he wraps his arms around Kuro's neck, kissing him back with longing. Kuro pulls away too soon, and Kenma mews softly in protest. Kuro kisses the tip of his nose, shaking his head.
"There's nothing to forgive," he says. "You never gave up on me. You searched for a way to find me again, and you did. I'm so proud of you, and I’m so happy to be back here with you."
"I love you," Kenma says, desperately, his voice catching in his throat. "I love you."
"I know," Kuro says, grinning faintly. "I love you too."
Kenma kisses him again, and again. He moves his lips over Kuro's face quickly, almost as though he's afraid he'll disappear. Kuro kisses him back as best he can, lips glancing off his cheeks, nose, and mouth.
"Don't ever leave me again."
"I won't. I promise."
"You have to stay with me."
"I will. I'm here."
"Don't forget about me."
"Never again."
The kisses grow less frantic, but they continue, as hands start to pull off clothes, and skin slides against skin. Kenma holds Kuro as close as he can, and Kuro does the same, anchoring themselves to each other.
This is home, he thinks, and he's determined to keep this. Forever.