One Last Time

17

After Kuroo had finished going through all the hoodies, he made his way to the t-shirt drawer. He missed Kenma and couldn't get enough of him, even if he would never see him again.

He went through the same process; picking up a shirt, unfolding it, hugging it for a second, and then laying it on the bed behind him. He continued to do this most of the day, and it took him about an hour to finish the hoodie drawer.

He missed Kenma. He wished he would've done something, anything, to help. He couldn't have done much, but he wished he'd done something. He wished Kenma could've told him everything that was going on.

Although he was Kenma's boyfriend, he wasn't told much. Kenma would kind of just bottle everything up inside, whether it was because he couldn't find the words to describe what he was going through, or because he didn't want to burden others with his problem. After they started dating, he'd gotten better at not hiding everything, but he still didn't talk bout most things.

As Kuroo held on to the shirt in front of him, he wondered - maybe if Kenma had told him some things going on, maybe he would still be here. Maybe he wouldn't have felt the urge to do what he did. Maybe he wouldn't have felt alone.

Kuroo, for the second time that day, could feel is thoughts making his eyes well up with tears. He knew he loved Kenma and he still did, alive or dead.

He continued to take the shirts out one by one. A thought started to cross his mind. What was he going to do with all of Kenma's things? Would they just stay how they are, or would he store them away? They had an extra room in the house he could store Kenma's things in, but he didn't want the house to feel empty and different. He had never lived without Kenma's belongings mixed in with his. He didn't know what to do and the thoughts racing in his mind made him anxious.

As he was nearing the end of the shirt drawer, he saw a small box in the corner of the drawer, under a few shirts. He picked it up and inspected it before opening it.

The curiosity of the box had made Kuroo stop crying a bit. It distracted him from the pain he was feeling that moment and replaced it with the urge to know what was inside.

When he opened the box, he saw a small paper inside. The front read "Don't open until 1/1/2031".

Kuroo could feel the tears in his eyes. He remembered the paper he had written to him when he was 18. He didn't think Kenma would keep it all this time, 5 years later, let alone stored away nicely in a box that no one else could find.

He started to cry a bit and wet the paper as he unfolded it to read what he had written back then:

"Hey Kenma,
Ok. Hi. Anyway, I don't know if you're actually going to read this for when it was intended or if you even still kept it after all this time. Anyways. I hope your doing well, and I know I will be too. Whether we split apart or are married or never even got together to behind with, I know we're both doing what's best for us and I just wanted to let you know I'm always here for you in good and bad times.
How's life? How are we both? I'm a third year right now and you're a second year. We have a few months left until graduation. Tonight I'm going to give you this letter along with some other things and ask you out. I hope you say yes. I think you will.
I know you love video games and I was wondering, what do you do for a job? Anything related to video games or volleyball? Do you like your job?
Anyway, I hope we still talk a lot like we always have since we were kids.
- Kuroo"

With each and every word Kuroo read, he could feel himself crying more. He wish Kenma could've read it. He wished he could've married Kenma before he died. Most of all, he wished Kenma was still alive.

He could see the other things inside the box - the game he had bought him, the gift card he never opened or used, and some other small things Kuroo had gotten him throughout their high school years.

They were small things Kuroo hardly remembered even giving him. There were things like a pen he lent Kenma or the phone charger he never got back. He had Kuroo's old switch that he gave away to Kenma after he grew out of the whole video game situation.

He could almost see the memories in front of him, as if they were playing on a projectile screen in front of his eyes. He could remember the times they would play Mario Kart after school or when Kenma would spend the night at his house and get mad because he forgot one of his games. He remembered when he would sleep over at Kenma's and he would wake up at 3 in the morning because Kenma was screaming at his computer.

He wished he could go back in time. He wished he could be with Kenma. He wished he could spend the days after school with him, doing his chemistry homework while Kenma yelled at his video games.

He wished he could touch Kenma's soft hands again. He wished he could brush his thumb over his cheek once again, feeling the small bumps and texture of his face. He wished he could touch his hair, he wished he could brush his fingers through the silky smooth ends of Kenma's hair.

He wished he could hear his voice. He wished he could once again hear Kenma's rare yet quiet, joyful laugh. He wish he could hear Kenma yelling at his game when he was angry. He wished he could hear Kenma's quiet snores in the mornings before he woke up.

All Kuroo wished for was to be with Kenma once again. He wished he could be with Kenma, just one last time.