Work Text:
It had been three weeks.
Kuroo had been gone every lunch, talking to Yaku or another one of his friends, and leaving Kenma to eat in his class alone. He had even stopped walking Kenma to school, texting him quick excuses about running late or going with another friend.
Soon, the excuses stopped, and Kenma learned to stop expecting him.
Kenma didn’t think much of it. Yes, he was upset that his friend wasn’t with him a lot, but, naturally, Kuroo would make more friends, especially considering he was a lot more extroverted than Kenma.
His sleep schedule slowly started declining.
Without Kuroo’s constant reminders to go to sleep, Kenma had been staying up playing video games all night, sleeping only when his body forcefully passed out. He also stopped eating so much. Kuroo usually encouraged him to eat or piled food on his plate. At the very least, the older boy would force the younger to keep granola bars on his bedside table.
Kenma wakes up with hunger pains now.
Kenma spends a lot of time walking around.
Before, he, Kuroo, (and a couple of others if Kuroo wanted to invite them) would sit in the shade by the school building in between the second-year and third-year classes.
He bumps into a lot more people now, without Kuroo to lead him places when he’s on his PSP.
He walks by Kuroo’s house every time he goes to the shopping centre, wanting to knock on his door and hang out like usual, but being stopped by a small voice in the back of his mind.
His mom asks about Kuroo. She asks how he’s doing, and if he and Kenma still talk. Kenma lies through his teeth, telling her he's fine, and they hang out during lunch.
Kenma busies himself with the video game club, devoting himself to participating in their events to avoid having free time.
The second years all have a week-long chemistry project. As the class bustles around to find their friends, Kenma stays put, heart aching at the mere thought of the science. He hopes the teacher will let him work alone. He has no such luck.
His teacher pairs him up with Tsukumo Kenji, another quiet kid in the class, and coincidentally also in the video game club.
Kenma gets closer to the quiet boy, and they start eating lunch together. He stays over at Kenji’s house to finish up the last of their project, and they sit on the couch to watch a movie. There are several centimeters of space between them, and Kenma frowns at the lack of body heat against him. Kuroo always cuddled up against him.
He can’t help but think he’s in the wrong house.
One day, Kenji and Kenma make their way to the school library when Kuroo passes them in the hall. Kenma raises his hand and gives a tentative wave. Kuroo gives Kenma a big smile before resuming his conversation with Kai and Yaku. For a split second, Kenma thinks everything is okay between them.
“Who’s that?” Kenji asks, watching as the third year leaves.
The words 'old friend' get caught in the back of Kenma’s throat. He can’t bring himself to say it.
“Just a friend of mine.”
Kenma quits the volleyball team.
All the first years go crazy, even Shibayama, who Kenma thought would have been relieved to have no more competition for the setter spot. Fukunaga stares at him with a barely concealed look of concern, and Yaku frowns at Kuroo before looking back at Kenma.
Coach Naoi pulls Kenma aside during his last practice.
“Are you feeling alright, Kenma? I'm not just saying this because you’re leaving, but I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit distant lately. Is something wrong?”
Kenma can’t meet his eyes. He mumbles something about just being tired and grabs his bag.
“Alright, you’re always welcome to come back when you’re ready.”
Kenma didn’t think he’d ever be ready.
Slowly, the smiles and waves in the halls stop. Kuroo and Kenma walk by each other like strangers, but Kenma can't control the longing looks he sends toward Kuroo.
The only thing that brings Kenma comfort is that Kuroo looks happy. He laughs loudly with his friends and looks happier than Kenma had ever seen him. Kenma looks away as Kuroo's gaze comes his way.
The first day of winter break, Kenma breaks down in his room.
It was the first time he had cried in months, and he was reduced to a pile of hiccups and sobs. He can't help but think it was his fault. Maybe he hadn't shown Kuroo enough affection or didn't make Kuroo feel loved.
"Are you still friends with Reiji?" Kenma had asked one time, eyes focused on defeating the swarm of Altaroths attacking his in-game character. The click of the buttons echoed throughout the quiet room, the only other sound coming from the occasional car passing through outside.
"Nah," Kuroo admitted casually, flopping down on the Animal Crossing bean bag chair in the corner of the room. "I realized he never texted me first, so I didn't text him for three weeks and he didn't seem to care. I left it at that."
Kenma hummed, thinking nothing of it at the time.
In the evening of their second day of break, Kenma sent a message to Kuroo. It was simple, but Kenma had spent hours building up the courage to send it.
| hey, how've you been?
He waited the rest of the day for a response from Kuroo, only to fall asleep with his phone still in his hand. He woke up to nothing.
They were well into the third day when Kenma finally got a response.
| I've been good! Hbu?
He freaked out, leaving the message as delivered for a couple of hours while he thought of what to say. In the end, he went with something basic anyway.
| i'm good too. do you have any plans for break?
He got the reply almost immediately.
| None yet. U?
| i've just been playing games, but i don't have any plans.
It took him ten whole minutes of staring at the screen to work up the courage to send what he did next.
| do you want to maybe catch up sometime?
It had been almost a week since he sent that message.
Almost a week of being left on delivered, the message standing alone, without response.
Kenma wanted to cry every time he thought of it. He shouldn't have sent it, he was so stupid.
On the last day of break, Kenma bought a set of stationery.
He sat at his desk and started writing. He poured his entire heart on the paper.
kuro,
there are a lot of things I'd like to say to you, but most of all: I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for anything I could have done to make you feel bad. I'm sorry for not putting enough effort into our friendship, and making you feel like you weren't enough. I'm sorry for always being focused on my game and never texting you first.
I'm sorry for hurting you, it was never my intention.
The truth is, I miss you. I miss cuddling with you and hanging out with you without any planning. I miss when you'd call me those stupid nicknames like Kitten, and I miss when you'd ruffle my hair. I miss how you knew everything about me, and how I knew everything about you. I miss ranting about my favorite games to you, and when you'd rant about anime I haven't even seen.
You were everything to me. I don't know why that changed.
I understand that people grow up and grow apart, but I can't seem to let you go.
Kenma stopped there and read over his letter with a scowl. It was so stupid and embarrassing. He crumpled it up and shoved it into one of his wood-stained drawers, burrowing himself into his Legend of Zelda comforter.
| That's just how it works. People leave high school and grow apart from each other.
Kenma didn't remember how this conversation came to be, but somehow, he and Kenji began texting about their life and friendship once they left high school.
| I don't want that to happen. We'll stay friends even after high school. I swear. I won't let you distance yourself from me.
Kenma let out a bitter laugh, thinking about all the people he left. Maybe it was all his fault.
| That's juvenile thinking. It's only natural. I'm not good at keeping friends anyway.
| I love you a lot. I won't let us stop being friends. You're one of my best friends, and I want us to stay that way.
'Best friends'?
Kenma wondered what made people best friends. He wasn't sure if he thought of Kenji as a best friend. He wanted his real best friend back.
Kenma opened his phone back to the conversation with Kuroo.
| do you want to maybe catch up sometime?
The message taunted him. The white writing stared up at him as if daring him to write something more.
He threw his phone across the room.
Kenma pulled out his stationary once more, laying it on his desk. He just needs the letter to be short and sweet.
kuro,
I'm sorry for everything.
I just need some closure.
Please tell me what I did wrong.
Tell me something. Anything.
We don't have to be friends anymore, but give me something.
He sealed the envelope and ran it outside, slipping it into the nearest mailbox before he could overthink too much and rip it up.
He doesn't sleep that night, his brain opting for thinking about the letter all night.
He gets up that morning with dark bags under his eyes, though that had been the case for many weeks.
He skips breakfast again.
He notices his tics get worse.
He can't get through a class without tensing his knuckles or blinking hard every minute. It annoys him.
Kenma cries himself to sleep more often than not.
He quits the video game club.
Kenma begins to grow tired of the lifestyle he's adopted. He misses Kuroo more than anything, but he also has other people in his life.
Kenji begins preparing a second lunch for Kenma, and shoving his always-full water bottle into the small blond's hands when he notices Kenma swaying slightly.
Kenji scolds him for staying up when he gets messages at 2 in the morning, and offers to call him to help him sleep at night.
He doesn't come to terms with it. But he realizes that it might not be his fault.
People grow up, and even when you think you might be friends until the end of time, that's not always true. In fact, it rarely ever is. Growing apart is natural, and it's unfair that for Kenma to take all the blame.
He still cries sometimes when he thinks about it, but he tries to move on.
He focuses on Kenji and a few other friends he's made, and he rejoins the volleyball team.
Everyone cheers as he joins, and Fukunaga begins talking to him more.
Kenma realizes not everything has to have a reason, and if it did, then he was okay not knowing it.