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Tsukishima folded his clothes neatly into his suitcase, emptying his closet piece by piece. The moving process had been grueling and taken the better part of the week, but Tsukishima had carefully put off the last of it, the last of memories that he could neither face nor simply pack away. Still, the looming deadline of the end of his lease spurred him into action, no matter the reluctance in his every step, his fear in every new box he made to be packed. He left the last two drawers of the dresser untouched, hesitant fingers instead ghosting over his desk drawer before slowly, agonizingly pulling it open. He plays with the little phone keychains for several moments, feeling the tug of memories pierce his tired heart. Tired of these emotions, tired of the hurt. But still, he is sucked in just the way he always had been by those earnest eyes and mischievous grin.
“Tsukki, Tsukki, I gotcha something,” Kuroo called even before he had reached the waiting blonde. Tsukishima rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning his head as a small smile danced upon his stubborn lips.
“I told you not to,” he grumbled as he settled down in the metal chair outside the café he had begun to think of as theirs. It was the starting part of all their adventures when his college student came to visit in Miyagi, where they had first bonded over too-sweet coffee and cake.
“I told you, you need something to remember me by because I’m always so far away though,” Kuroo retorted with a slight pout. “I don’t want you to forget all about me.”
“Out of sight, out of mind,” Tsukishima said with a nonchalant shrug, the light in his eyes giving away the lie.
“Well with this, I’ll never be out of sight,” Kuroo responded with a grin, always undeterred. He pushed a small box across the table, wrapped with a clumsy ribbon. Tsukishima sighed and threw a small box across the table at Kuroo as well, and couldn’t help the smile at Kuroo’s surprise, at the grin that pulled up those lips that for once was not so crafty. It was these moments, when all of the manipulation and careful banter fell away and Kuroo’s smile was so genuine its rays reached out to Tsukki and warmed his face into a slight flush, that Tsukishima knew exactly how he had fallen for the older middle blocker. Because this was his Kuroo, the Kuroo that let his guards melt away, the Kuroo that smiled only for the blushing blonde.
“You aren’t allowed to forget me, either,” Tsukishima grumbled as they both tore open the packages. A beat, two surprised eyes meet, and then outright laughter from both. Kuroo held up the phone chain with an Allosaurus swinging from it and Tsukishima’s lanky fingers presented one with a delicate black cat.
“I told you we’re a match made in heaven, great minds think alike,” Kuroo said with a triumphant grin, quickly attaching the dinosaur to his phone. Tsukishima followed suit, admiring the cat dangling from his phone for a moment.
“Who thought of the idea for you then?” he retorted even as Kuroo leaned over the table to catch the swinging cat, breath fanning over Tsukishima’s face as their eyes met. For a moment, gold bearing into gold, Tsukishima’s breath catching as those eyes, those eyes that enraptured him with every glance, softened into affection meant for him, meant only for Tsukishima Kei. The next moment, soft lips met chapped once as they came together for the first time, one soul melding into each other in affection they had longed for since that first practice match. Tsukishima thought that he could kiss those chapped lips forever, if he had the chance.
But he hadn’t. Because chapped lips had grown cold and far away, so damn far away that Tsukishima couldn’t reach them anymore. He watched the dinosaur and the cat, chains interlaced and tangled fall into the unmarked box, the one box he had set aside with no label for this purpose. It disappeared into the dark shadows of the empty box, disappeared just as Kuroo Tetsurou had from his life.
Tsukishima proceeded to the bathroom, busying himself with cleaning out the tub, emptying the cabinets, scrubbing away at the tiles until his arms burned, as if he could burn away the memories he had resisted for so long. Back and forth, back and forth, using the monotony of the task to call back some form of stability to his reeling mind. This was the abyss he had so avoided during this process, the process he had put off for years to simply dodge this moment. He had begun preparing for the move as methodically and rationally as possible, focusing upon the eminent details to ignore the nightmares haunting underneath. For his apartment was riddled with reminders of loud jokes and soft whispers of affection, of birthdays spent with laughter and rough, callused hands that had once intertwined with his own. His hand froze as it went to throw away a nearly empty bottle of toothpaste, a damned stupid, insignificant bottle of toothpaste.
“Kuroo Tetsurou,” Tsukishima called with gritted teeth. A few moments of scuffling and then a sheepish smile and sleepy eyes popped hesitantly into the doorframe of their bathroom. They had moved in together one year ago, and it had been a year filled with the best memories of both of their lives, and empty toothpaste bottles.
“Kei, I know what you’re going to say and before-“ Kuroo attempted to redirect the conversation as he wrapped his arms around Tsukishima’s waist. Tsukishima crossed his arms, however, lips pushing out into that pout he always adopted when he didn’t get his way. He pushed Kuroo’s arms away with a huff, glowering at his boyfriend in indignation.
“All I ask, all I ever ask, is that you throw away the damn toothpaste bottle when it’s finished and put out a fresh one. Whenever you leave it there,”
“It’s basically demanding that you clean it up for me, I know, I’m so terribly sorry, I was in a rush this morning, I was late to work and it’s all my fault and I’ll make it up to you a million times over,” Kuroo’s words came out stumbling over each other as he clasped his hands in apology and bowed his head. Tsukishima held back the grin threatening to overcome him as he tapped Kuroo’s forehead with the empty toothpaste bottle.
“You’re incorrigible and annoying and I hate you,” Tsukishima responded as he dumped the empty bottle and shoved past Kuroo out of the bathroom. Kuroo’s eyes lit up and a smile split his mouth open as he bounded after him, arms wrapping around Tsukishima from behind; strong, reliable arms which Tsukishima had learned he could lean on over the course of the past two years. The feeling of Kuroo nuzzling into his neck, hard chest pressed into his back, the very presence of Kuroo curling his toes and twisting his stomach, was a complex addiction that he could neither understand nor overcome. He had little desire to do either as Kuroo’s fingers intertwined with his.
“I love you too,” Kuroo teased, and both bodies, so content just moments ago, froze instantaneously. Kuroo’s arms dropped and with a loud clap Tsukishima knew that he had clasped his hands over his mouth without turning around. Slowly, carefully, Tsukishima turned and met those frantic eyes and felt the squeeze of his heart. The golden eyes he had grown accustomed to were blown wide open, the vulnerability in them coming to the forefront in a mixture of surprise and terrified anticipation. Tsukishima’s trembling hands framed Kuroo’s soft cheeks, wanting to take away the pain that was starting to form in the swirling of emotions.
“How emotionally retarded can we both be to have not said I love you yet?” Tsukishima murmured as he brought Kuroo’s forehead to meet his. After two long years of dating, after even moving in together, the pair had participated in an intricate dance around those dreaded words; because in strikingly similar yet unique ways both were afraid, both were guarded, both hiding just how vulnerable they were behind wit and nonchalance. And yet in these moments, when Kuroo’s walls fell and bright eyes gleamed at him with a hesitance so unlike Kuroo, Tsukishima could do nothing but follow suit and fall deeper down the rabbit hole that was Kuroo Tetsurou. And in this moment, when those words left his mouth, the beam which broke out from those features, the excitement and pure, tender love which finally settled into those eyes that Tsukishima could never get enough of, it was all Tsukishima ever needed to let him in. Their lips met in little scattered whispers of ‘I love you’, making up for time lost and preparing for a future they would always have.
Tsukishima sighed and placed the bottle down next to the phone charms, working quickly to dispose of the final items in what had once been their bathroom. He couldn’t count how many days, months, years it had taken to step into that small alcove and not recall the quick showers together when they were both late for work, Kuroo’s tendency to prop his chin on Tsukishima’s taller shoulder while he was brushing his teeth. It hadn’t taken long, however, for Tsukishima to learn that memories had the tendency to cling tighter the harder he strived to forget them. The last three years of his life had been an unending cycle of attempting to forget, attempting to erase, because how else could he shoulder the visceral tearing of his soul as loss became the rhythm of his heartbeat? How else could he shoulder the pain? Tsukishima bit his lip hard as the tears began to form in his weary eyes, the familiar tang of blood creeping in as deft hands slowly wrapped cups and plates in paper and packed them away.
Packing his kitchen took nearly an hour, but nothing could prepare him for the jolt that tore through his heart as he reached the final cup, a black mug painted with a bright moon. It was cracked and broken, haphazardly glued together with little bits and pieces missing. Tears fell freely now, caught by the broken cup just as callused hands had once done the same. Kuroo had insisted on keeping the cup despite its inability to perform its intended function, as Tsukishima had pointed out. But still, he treasured the useless thing that Kuroo had spent hours painstakingly gluing back together after their first fight.
“I’m not your god damned punching bag, Kei,” Kuroo groaned as he ran a tired hand through his hair. Tsukishima’s head snapped around, food forgotten as he rose slowly to his feet.
“What are you talking about?” But Tsukishima knew, because the tension had been building around them for the past month, both carefully tiptoeing around an issue they were too afraid to address, neither willing to bend. But three years into their relationship, it didn’t take much to pick up on the other’s cues and habits, to recognize the way Tsukishima adjusted his glasses when he was angry or Kuroo would muss with his hair in frustration.
“Look, you’ve been having a hard time at work, you’ve been stressed, and it sucks to come home past 10 every night and I get all that, I really do. But you come home in this mood and you’re a thousand miles away and if I try to reach out to you all I get is thorny Tsukishima, and I know you don’t mean it but the shit you say hurts,” Kuroo’s voice was level but more than anything, Tsukishima realized just how exhausted he sounded. Kuroo had coined the name ‘thorny Tsukishima’ for the Kei that rejected his affection, that spit fire without a second thought and turned away without apologies. Until now, it had been a light-hearted joke.
“You think I’m a thousand miles away? Me?” Tsukishima countered in disbelief, eyebrow arching sharply. Still his voice was soft, calm, just as it always with. Kuroo’s teeth gritted with the constant, everyday exhaustive effort of trying to pull more out of Tsukishima’s shell. He gave nothing. “You get stressed and it’s silence, maybe a few jokes. As if I’m just anyone else.” The sentence was short, clipped, was Tsukishima. But Kuroo was adept now at identifying the underlying threat behind all his words. He’s become tired of threats.
“I swear to God,” Kuroo covered his face as his head turned towards the ceiling in supplication. “You’re so damned self-centered sometimes. I wonder if you even love me sometimes.” And there it was. Kuroo’s insecurities that Tsukishima had sewn, watered, and nurtured. Because Kuroo didn’t know how many more nights of Tsukishima digging at his pride in ways only the one he loved could, in the name of keeping his own safe. But suddenly both of them are screaming over each other with that one statement, Tsukishima’s face feel hot with both anger and shame, Kuroo finds it hard to breathe as their volume increases higher and higher because god damn it they loved each other and sometimes it was the person they loved that could tear them down most efficiently. Tsukishima didn’t know how else to eradicate the heaviness that had settled deep into his chest, he had never known just how physically his heart could hurt until that moment.
“And you never fucking tell me when you’re coming home late so you leave me here to worry because you think I don’t care. I don’t know how to get it through to you that I love you and I’m sorry I’m so damned fucking difficult to love but you knew this coming in and I know that I’ve fucked up so many times,” and Tsukishima’s words came out in sobbing breaths even as Kuroo’s face matched his own. A small part of Kuroo’s mind registered that in all three years, he had never heard Tsukishima scream like that, had never seen that careful control break on his own insecurities and pain. Vaguely, he registered that Tsukishima is utterly, heartbreakingly beautiful this way. Tsukishima’s swinging arm as he attempted to overcome Kuroo’s own loud words and the black mug Kuroo had bought him when they first moved in catches on his hand and shatters on the ground with a deafening crash. Both parties froze and stared at the broken mug, as broken and confused and tired as they were. And Tsukishima felt himself suddenly wrapped up in the strong arms he had learned to lean on and Kuroo was everywhere with small kisses and apologies as Tsukishima’s muffled voice breathed out endless ‘sorry’s against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry Tetsurou. You’re right, I can’t be like this anymore-” but Tsukishima was cut off by quiet shushing and a hand stroking his head soothingly as Kuroo pulled him impossibly closer.
“We’ll work on this together, okay? No more yelling. I love you so much, I love you enough to get through anything. We both have shit to work on, but never forget. I love you enough to get through anything.”
There were some things, Tsukishima thought bitterly, that any amount of love couldn’t overcome. Kuroo had presented the now-fixed mug to him several days later, and Tsukishima had jibed about throwing it away even as he gently placed it in a safe place in their cabinet. Tsukishima felt the memories weighing down on him, heavier and more insistent as the mug was placed into the unmarked box with the other items. Because love couldn’t overcome the screeching sounds and flashing lights, the stench of meticulously sanitized rooms and the low, ever-present beeps of machines as Tsukishima laid awake night after night next to the shell of the man he loved. With a scream, a heart wrenching scream meant for no one but his own broken shell that had once loved a man, Tsukishima grabbed the cup back out and hurled it onto the tiled floor of the kitchen with all the might that his now frail limbs would allow, ignoring the cuts that dug into his knees and hands as he fell into the mess. The shape of the moon was indiscernible in a sea of broken black because Tsukishima could never be that light again (“You’re always there to guide my way in dark times”), because one day he had lost his sun and the moon could never shine without the reflection of that blazing light.
And deeper down the rabbit hole he fell, now unable to resist allowing himself to dwell within the terrible world of his memories. Tsukishima allowed the pain of his cuts to help him regain some semblance of stability, physical pain for a moment helping to push away the never-ending ache of his heart. Heavy footsteps led him in front of a door he had not opened for three years, a door he had avoided in the guest bedroom he made his temporary home. The hinges creaked in protest as Tsukishima opened the door to the bedroom he had shared with Kuroo Tetsurou.
An expected layer of dust had settled upon the dresser, the bed, the desk with dozens of photos taped on and around it, on picture frames of their memories they had intended on expanding forever. Tsukishima inhaled deeply and almost swore he could smell the slight musk of Kuroo’s scent, that scent that reminded him of a home he had been desperately searching for since the day of the car accident. The tears which had flown so freely were now dry, grown numb by the shock of reentering a life that Tsukishima could not leave behind, no matter how he had tried. His hands no longer shook as he reached into the bedside drawer, blood staining the small, rectangular box he pulled out. It revealed a simple, silver band. Tsukishima’s fingers ghosted over the inscription inside the band, slipping it onto the long, slender fingers that Kuroo had spent months attempting to subtly uncover the size of.
Tsukishima was, to put it lightly, irked. Kuroo had been distant as of late, but six years into their relationship Tsukishima had learned that silence was Kuroo’s way of trying to keep his stresses from piling on Tsukishima, no matter how much he insisted that he wasn’t quite as fragile as Kuroo believed. But this distance seemed to whisper secrets and lies and Tsukishima hated the shifting eyes whenever he probed. Still it was a Friday, February 4 to be exact, and Tsukishima hoped to watch a movie at home with takeout from their usual Thai place, and it would be a normal night again. He hopped on the train after work, sending Kuroo a brief text to inform him of his departure as was their custom, and closed his eyes wearily for the long ride home. At precisely 7:21 PM, Tsukishima walked through the door of their home and found the crinkled, open smile that no longer spoke of distance and Tsukishima so loved. Kuroo stood in their doorway with a bouquet of flowers, hand extended in invitation which Tsukishima immediately accepted. Small peppered kisses and murmured ‘I love you’s as Kuroo led him to their dining room sent small sparks through Tsukishima, a fire that had been lit since he had heard the words, “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” all those years ago and simply never departed.
Tsukishima laughed slightly as Kuroo pulled out the chair for him, their drab dining table draped with a white tablecloth and candles, and peering deep into those gold eyes, Tsukishima was overcome with simply the depth of feeling he had for the man before him. Six years ago, Tsukishima had made the only right choice he felt he had ever made: he had chosen Kuroo Tetsurou.
“Special occasion?” Tsukishima questioned with a raised eyebrow, eyeing the dinner that Kuroo had slaved over for the past four hours. Kuroo sent him that all too crafty, devastatingly handsome grin.
“Can’t I just appreciate my wonderful, caring, incredible, too intelligent for his own good, gorgeous,” Kuroo laughed as Tsukishima cut him off with a grumpy, “I get it, I get it.” And Tsukishima couldn’t have told Bokuto or Akaashi later what Kuroo had cooked or whether or not it had been delicious because the mere presence of Kuroo had enraptured him in that moment, the low lighting flickering shadows over his defined features, the way Kuroo’s eyes softened while Tsukishima told him about a particularly difficult project at work, how Kuroo had reached for Tsukishima’s hand periodically throughout the dinner and brought it to his lips while murmuring, ‘I love you’. Tsukishima couldn’t have told anyone how the food was, because he had been utterly and irrevocably in love with Kuroo.
“And then, Tetsurou I was furious, Terushima had the nerve to say, ‘maybe if Tsukishima was a little more competent we’d have it finished by now’ as if he had done anything at all to help,” Tsukishima ranted as Kuroo brought out their dessert, a slice of strawberry shortcake placed elegantly in front of him. Tsukishima frowned for a moment, because the rather ostentatiously decorated cake looked expensive, different from the small bakery that they normally frequented. But his thoughts were interrupted by a loud, exaggerated gasp from his partner.
“He did not! How dare he!” Kuroo cried indignantly, and Tsukishima threw his head back and laughed in a way he only could for Kuroo. It was these moments that Tsukishima swore he knew the meaning of forever, saw it in the content satisfaction in Kuroo’s face at Tsukishima’s mere laughter, at such a simple thing, saw it in the way Kuroo’s head would lean against his hand and a tender smile would tug at his lips, a smile that Tsukishima considered his own. There was a comfortable, easy silence as Tsukishima made his way through his slice, until he nearly cracked his teeth on something hard and metallic. He spat it out in absolute shock, mind reeling with thousands of overlapping thoughts at the simple, silver band that now lay in his hand.
“What kind of idiot puts a ring inside the cake? What if I had eaten it? Is this why he planned this whole dinner? He’s such a stupid romantic. Wait, does this mean he’s proposing? Would we get married in Miyagi or Tokyo? We’ve been living in Tokyo so it’d be easier for our friends, but my mother’s getting old the trip may be hard for her-” Tsukishima rambled under his breath as his eyes never left the ring. An affectionate smile framed Kuroo’s face as he made his way around the table to his lover. It had been four years into their relationship when Tsukishima had unknowingly begun vocalizing his constant internal monologue and Kuroo had realized just how many thoughts were always running through his lover’s mind. Softly, slowly Kuroo plucked the ring out of Tsukishima’s hand and wiped the remaining spit and frosting off, holding it out to Tsukishima.
“You’re doing it again, moonshine,” Kuroo murmured as he pressed his lips to Tsukishima’s fingers, slowly, methodically, one slender finger at a time. Tsukishima cut off in the middle of a thought, eyes widening at the sight of Kuroo on one knee before him.
“You don’t like it when I get too mushy, and tonight is about you, so I’ll keep this short, okay? I love you, I love you because you challenge me, you bring out the best in me. Because before I met you, I thought that superficial relationships and staving off intimacy with, well, pissing people off and stupid jokes was enough. And then I met you and you taught me what it was to let myself be open. The way you were just as guarded as me weirdly gave me the courage to trust my heart in your hands, and I’ve never regretted that decision. I love you Tsukishima Kei, and I learned what forever was with every day I spent with you. Will you marry me, moonshine?” And Tsukishima fell to the floor with him, tears mixing with kisses and not needing, not having words for that moment as Kuroo’s hands held his face and they pressed each other’s foreheads together, not knowing whose arms were whose as they finally reached this moment they had been longing for so many years.
“Well are you going to give me the damned ring or not?” Tsukishima asked with a smile and Kuroo let out a gurgling laugh as he slipped the ring onto Tsukishima’s fingers, pressing his lips to the blonde’s ear.
“There’s an inscription on the inside. It says, ‘My guiding light, now and forever,’” he whispered.
It was a Friday, February 4, and it was the most incredible night of Tsukishima Kei’s life. It was the night he thought he had learned the meaning of forever.
Five days later, Kuroo Tetsurou was dead.
And now Tsukishima was crying. He was curled up in the bed he had spent five years with the love of his life, one side stacked with the too many pillows Kuroo had liked to bury himself in. The tears blurred his vision and Tsukishima was thankful for that, thankful that for at least one damned moment he no longer had to see this world that he despised, the world that had taken everything that had mattered to him, the world that no longer held the hopeful promise of forever. The memories were overwhelming, long locked away experiences flowing into him in order to sear the pain ever more hotly onto his already wilting heart.
“Hey Tsukki, come practice some blocks with me.”
“Let me take you on a date,” a nervous smile, so different from the mischievous grin Tsukishima had thought was permanently plastered onto his face.
Tsukishima didn’t want this, didn’t want the unrelenting replay of an abundance of memories, but the barrage never ended, as he curled tighter and tighter into himself, white sheets staining red as he gripped onto them desperately.
“Do you want to move in together?” This time it was Tsukishima with the nervous smile, but Kuroo simply hugged him and swung him through the air. He would take that as a yes.
The hot sun hit them as they lounged together on the beach, idly throwing a volleyball back and forth as they spoke. Tsukishima had to admit, as Kuroo rolled closer to pepper kisses over his face, he was glad he had taken time off work for this vacation. He had to admit, he was glad for the simple gravity of Kuroo’s presence.
“One day we’ll have a big house together with a hundred kids and lots of dogs,” Tsukishima laughed at the image Kuroo painted, but didn’t think it sounded that terrible.
Kuroo brought home strawberry shortcake and laughed at the eagerness that lit up Tsukishima’s face.
“Tetsurou,” Tsukishima called in a hesitant voice, calling Kuroo by his given name for the first time, and Kuroo froze for a moment, before that beaming smile filled Tsukishima from head to toe.
“Kei, let’s be together forever.”
Stop, please make it stop.
“Tsukishima Kei? Yes, Kuroo Tetsurou had listed you as his emergency contact? I’m terribly sorry, there’s been a car accident, a drunk driver...” Don’t say sorry. Don’t say sorry. Because the only reason you would say sorry-
There’s a mask over his scarred face, Tsukishima can’t drown out the beep of the machines that are keeping Tetsurou alive. It’d been three days, he had heard the words ‘pull the plug’ floating in the air. No. No. No.
Stop.
“I love you Tetsurou. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Tsukishima croaked out.
The long, haunting sound of the flatline.
Time of death, 3:47 PM.
Please, stop. Please, please.
And then warm arms wrapped around Tsukishima’s trembling form and for one wild, crazy, moment Tsukishima believed it was Kuroo, that he was never gone and hope is a terrifying emotion as it grips his entire being like a predator who had finally sunk its unrelenting claws into its unsuspecting prey, and for a split second everything is going to be okay again, for a cruel moment, Tsukishima believes he finally won’t have to hurt anymore. But reality comes crashing in and hope is a terrifying, cruel emotion that preys on the weak, and Tsukishima recognizes Akaashi’s soothing voice.
“I’m sorry, we’re here now, It’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll help it stop,” he murmurs as he strokes the blonde locks, nodding at Bokuto who had come in with antiseptic and bandages. Tsukishima hadn’t realized the broken cries of stop, please stop that had been pouring from his lips, hadn’t heard the pair come in and found Tsukishima entangled in bloody sheets, hadn’t seen the worry but lack of surprise that had passed between the two.
“We were gonna come earlier Tsukki, but Keiji thought you might need some time to sort through everything on your own,” Bokuto explained as he gently began cleaning out the cuts on his hands and knees. Akaashi continued to stroke Tsukishima steadily, whispering empty words of comfort in an attempt to ground Tsukishima.
“I wish I could take it all away for you, I’m so sorry I can’t,” Akaashi whispered as he held the crying man. And finally, finally everything broke. Throughout the funeral, the long nights of staying up together, the stiff acceptance of condolences, the pair had never seen Tsukishima shed a tear. So they had waited, allowed the man to grieve at his own pace, and waited patiently for when he would need them. And now, Tsukishima pressed the sleeve of his shirt up to his mouth and screamed, screamed again and again for the forever he had lost and the new one he had learned. For Tsukishima had learned that the true forever was looking into the future and realizing no matter what path he took, he could never insert Kuroo back into it. He learned that forever was when Kuroo’s timeline had ended too abruptly for him to understand and that, for the rest of his damned life, there would never be a continuation.
Forever simply meant that Kuroo Tetsurou would be dead for the rest of his life.
Spit and tears and snot mixed into Tsukishima’s sleeve but he couldn’t register that as his voice grew hoarse from the screaming and his hand stung from the liquids mixing into cuts that he felt would never heal. It was filthy and painful but finally Tsukishima began to expel a little bit of the pain he had shouldered alone, finally began to look the memories in the eye and learn to embrace them. Because he had spent the last three years running and running and running and he was just so damn tired. Bit by bit, it finally came out like an overflowing torrent until his voice could no longer scream and the tears slowed into quiet hiccups.
“He would be so proud of you,” Akaashi continued to whisper as Bokuto joined them on the bed. “We’re so proud of you, for making this move.” And Tsukishima allowed Akaashi’s constant stream of words to calm him down, the steadying presence of his two friends to ground him into the present. Eventually, the three quietly packed up the rest of the apartment, Akaashi saying nothing as he swept up the remnants of the mug and placed it into the box with the rest of Kuroo and Tsukishima’s things. As the last box was settled onto the moving truck, Bokuto and Akaashi excused themselves and Tsukishima found himself alone with what had once been his home with the man he had grown to trust and love. But there was nothing in this world as permanent as death, Tsukishima thought as he closed the front door, closed the door on the forever he had spent six years believing in. With a resounding thud that would haunt his nightmares, Tsukishima closed the door on Kuroo Tetsurou’s forever.
I love you, Tsukishima Kei.