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"It wasn’t me. It never was. You were never in love with me. Not for a second. We were always just friends, and now that’s ruined because I messed up with you, and I messed up with myself. And I… I’m sorry. I'm so sorry."
He didn’t let the rain soothe him; but which one? He wiped the drops from his face along with the tears, and everything was so blurred, and all he could think about was Kuroo with Tsukishima, and shy smiles and forever-gentle glances. Kenma swallowed the knot, still reluctant to release the words stuck in his throat. If he had to define what he was feeling, staring at his mother’s dead garden, he would say he was a fallen flower and "I’m trying to hide it, Kuroo and Tsukishima, and I’m pretending it’s nothing, trying, failing, but there’s no way to deny to myself that… he was always the one who shone in your eyes, Kuroo", and a deep sigh followed.
More words would have been spoken if his voice hadn’t betrayed him so soon. Just as the silvery rain fell over his shoulders, soaking him and reminding him that Kozume Kenma was pathetic, he collapsed inward on himself. The tendons in his fingers whitened as he searched for some comfort in his own strength; his teeth turned to dust in his mouth, and Kenma no longer knew how to pretend he was fine. He knew himself to be a terrible liar, and Kuroo knew him as someone who rarely told the truth. His flaws had always been there, hollowing him out. But now, at this point, he amounted to nothing but disappointment and ruins, his chest laid open while raindrops blurred the blood and danced in that almost endless darkness. And Kuroo watched in silence, because for the first time he didn’t know what he should say, or what he wanted to say. For himself or for Kenma, he no longer knew. He used to be able to read Kenma as a whole, but now he was so shattered that the familiar reading had become impossible. Kuroo had never seen Kenma like this, not once. The rain or the tears, he couldn’t even tell them apart.
"We… I…" He began, thoughts tripping over one another. He staggered two steps back, a puddle soaking his gray sneakers. "It’s better if we talk another day. You’re not well."
"No. We have to settle this now, or that’s when I really won’t be well. I want to end this now."
There was a harsh sincerity behind every syllable, swallowed by the distant rumble of thunder. And Kuroo, standing right beside him, could barely hear him. But he knew immediately, because he was thinking of Tsukishima too. If he hadn’t been staring at the ground, he would have cried. Instead, he looked at Kenma, and all he felt was anger at himself for not being able to move and hold him, a selfishness he couldn’t understand. And Kenma seemed so far away, sitting beside the withered flowers of a forgotten garden in front of his house. Somehow, the raindrops felt less aggressive, thinner, softer. It was so hard to accept, and yet so freeing. Because Kuroo had always been his best friend. The only one among many.
"Be more honest with yourself, Kuroo. The way you care about others… it doesn’t look like you. And when you’re with him… damn it. That’s you, completely. You can’t even hide it anymore, can you?", he let out a hollow laugh. "And I hate it… so much… I wish it weren’t like this, but I can’t change it. I can’t. I’m sorry. Forgive me… Please…"
He grabbed handfuls of flowers that had long been dead and tore them out with his fists — Kuroo, deep down, begging him to stop, a little frightened — fighting against the sting and the drizzle. He hated his clumsiness, the suffocating pride, the trembling that laid his rotten side bare like sunbeams slipping through golden clouds. And the anger, yes, the sadness. And everything that was never truly his. Every line carved inside Kenma, stitching the hole in his chest and leaving behind a frozen emptiness. His clothes soaked through, pure sobbing. Kuroo soaked as well, a confused expression running down his face. But no words. Maybe he had already come to terms with it even before Kenma realized it himself. He was bad at these things too.
"But… I wish you well. Truly, I do. For both of you. So… I'm gonna be okay someday", he said softly, without taking his eyes off the wilted red roses. "I know your heart isn’t with me. So you have to go. Now."
It wasn’t just a breakup; it was also the beginning of a small new life. A little different, and necessary? Maybe if he had fought a bit more against that dozen knots in his throat, it would have been a victory — or an even more bitter defeat. But Kuroo was so far away, and Kenma felt a little less whole. He counted each fallen petal in his mother’s old garden, and it was pathetic how as dead as the garden he felt. The rain, now golden under the sun, bathed Kenma, but drying him completely was a distant dream. Alone, Kenma realized he had done the right thing. And Kuroo would come back to him someday — it wouldn’t take long — and would hug him like he always did, calling him his best friend and sparing him the shame of having lied to him and to himself for thirteen long, gentle months.